Neither Man Nor Beast
by Dazzleberry
Summary: In another bout of dubious wisdom, the Ministry of Magic has passed the Magical Creature Protection Act. Guess which of our characters is a magical creature? Rating is for general content and theme, not sex. Companion piece to For Tomorrow We May Die.
1. Chapter 1: Dehumanization

_A/N: This is a companion story to 'For Tomorrow We May Die', a story that is technically SS/OFC but has drifted far enough from the romance theme that the pairing is a technicality._

_Originally, this story was going to be a part of TWMD, but in one of my uncommon moments of foresight, I realized that the story was crucial to this fic in that Lupin's character undergoes a fair bit of change, and this story is too complex to work into the already complex plot of TWMD. _

_Neither Man Nor Beast will run simultaneously to TWMD, though I do not consider either essential to the other. It was more important that I work out what all was happening to Lupin so I get his evolving character right than anything. Any plot development from NMNB that is necessary for TWMD will be explained in TWMD, and vice versa._

_Therefore, if you'd like to read about Lupin and the changes to the Werewolf Code of Conduct, check out Neither Man Nor Beast. Otherwise, trust me to tell you what you need to know about it._

_In order to avoid a lot of complicated explanations in this story, here is the run-down of what you need to know._

_1. The story begins in August before Harry & Co' s seventh year at Hogwarts.  
2. Minister Fudge has been killed and replaced by a Minister Marius Davis.  
3. Snape and Lupin had been enjoying a rapidly advancing friendship until very recently.  
4. Snape has had a disagreement of sorts with the Order and has not been in communication with them for the last two weeks.  
5. The new Minister Davis has been passing a number of new laws and acts, and the latest one, the Magical Creature Protection Act is the one that sparked this fic._

_That's all you really need to know to appreciate what's going on in this fic._

_I don't know how long this fic will be, but my intention is to run it parallel to TWMD, and as the two are so closely linked, they will very likely ride on each other's coat tails' so to speak._

_**Warnings:** This fic might be a bit disturbing at times, hence the rating. It is possible that the subject matter will be too raw for more sensitive readers. I'm not planning to tone it down a bit, though I will do my level best to keep it within the bounds of taste. Lupin's treatment is inhuman at times, and I make no apologies about that. I also make no apologies for the fact that if you're looking for a 'bad guy' you're not going to find one very easily here. I operate under the assumption that there are few people who are inherently good or evil._

_Disclaimer: I don't own JKR's stuff. Obviously._

_---------------------------------------------_

**Chapter 1: Dehumanization**

"Remus Lupin?"

Remus looked up from the book he was pretending to read and into the soft brown eyes of a woman who was, perhaps, a few years younger than he. Dark brown hair spilled from what looked to be a hasty attempt to corral rebellious curls into the confines of a bun. She wore an earthen-colored in a simple cut that did little to hide her ample figure. She was really quite plump, but there was a sparkle in her eyes and a genuine smile on her face that went far to distract him from her size.

"Yes?" he asked mildly.

"Come along into my office," she said, ushering him from his seat and towards a door. Her hand flitted against his arm, then his back as she guided him into a small, cluttered room with no windows. A row of bookshelves lined the wall, giving the place a feeling that it would soon cave in on him. The shelves were disorderly, piled with parchment and scrolls and books that lay haphazardly scattered. The desk was hardly in better condition, strewn with parchment, quills, inkpots, books, folders and Merlin alone knew what else. A half-full cup of tea sat on one corner, the stratification of stains attesting to how long it had been ignored.

Framed certificates leaned against one wall, stacked against each other. The top one, he could see from his vantage point just inside the door, was a membership to the Dark Forces Defense League, and the one behind it seemed to be a framed NEWT, though he couldn't make out the subject.

There were four chairs in the room—three arranged in a half-circle in front of the desk and one behind the desk. Only the one behind the desk was cleared enough to allow anyone to sit in it. The only point of order in the entire room seemed to be a waist-high cabinet with a neat stack of folders atop it.

"Go ahead and have a seat and… oh. Er…" the woman waved a wand at the middle chair in front of the desk and levitated the stack of parchments that had been in it, guiding them to the floor. "There you are. Have a seat, Remus. And I do apologize for the mess—we've been in the process of a bit of rearranging since Minister Davis took over and, well, I must say I've had more important things on my mind than putting together my office."

He sank slowly into the proffered chair and watched as she bustled around the room, rummaging through stacks of parchment and folders until she found the one she was apparently looking for. As she moved back around the desk, he stood again, manners dictating it in some part of his mind.

"Ah, here we are. Oh, and I haven't introduced myself yet, have I? Larentia Berkeley. And sit, my dear. Sit." She offered a hand and he shook it, slightly bemused. She hadn't stopped talking for ten seconds yet.

His eyes shot to her hand, but there was no telltale ring there. "Miss Berkeley," he acknowledged her, but she stopped him with a wave of her hand.

"I'll have none of that. Do you hear? You may call me Lara. That's what everyone I like calls me. The people I don't like don't know that's my familiar name, you know; helps me keep up with who I like and who I don't." She winked at him and he smiled faintly.

"Of course," he replied, his head reeling.

"Now, let's see, where to begin. You'll have to forgive me, Remus, as I'm new to this too, actually. You're my first appointment. Really, I think we could have done with a little more time to prepare things, but Minister Davis was adamant that we begin at once, so at once it has been. I do wish we'd had time to at least settle the offices, though."

Remus watched as she rummaged again, looking for something else. She picked up one stack of parchment and moved it to the corner of the desk, then dropped another stack onto the floor.

"Ah, there we are," she announced, and from what he could tell, she'd found her desk. "Now, do you have any questions for me before we begin? It's essential that you're comfortable talking with me, Remus, so if you have anything, anything at all, that needs clearing up, you just let me know, all right? Now—"

"I do have a question, actually," he interrupted her. "What am I doing here?"

"What are you do— Oh dear." She squinted at him and put down the folder she'd been rifling through. "You _are_Remus J. Lupin, aren't you?"

"Yes," he replied. "And I received an owl from the Ministry telling me to report here, though there was no reason detailed." He reached into his pocket and retrieved the parchment, offering it to her.

She took it from him and peered at the page, her lips moving as she read. "And you didn't receive a copy of the newly revised Werewolf Code of Conduct?" she asked him, looking at him again.

"No," he replied, a sense of dread sweeping over him.

"That's strange. A copy was supposed to have been delivered to every known werewolf in Great Britain. Let's see, let me just verify your… aha! I have a note of that right here—we didn't have a valid address on file for you, and it is sensitive material. So we'll just begin there. Your current place of residence?"

She swiftly uncapped a bottle of ink and dipped her quill into it. Remus kept his face carefully blank. "I'm afraid I don't have a permanent residence," he replied. "If you send correspondence to Professor Albus Dumbledore at Hogwarts, though, he always knows where to find me."

"You don't have a permanent address, hrm? Well, I'm afraid that isn't going to cut it, Remus. That is actually a part of the new Code. Perhaps it would be best if we begin with the changes. Let's see… Ah, there we are." She had turned to the shelf and retrieved a book from it—a book as thick as his thumb. She placed it on the desk in front of him and made a note in her folder.

"This is your copy, Remus, and I strongly urge you to read it. In fact, we'll go ahead and schedule another meeting, because there will be a number of papers for you to sign once you have read it. Perhaps…" she had moved a calendar in front of her, and he noted with some degree of interest that the phases of the moon were marked along the side. She tapped her quill against the 20th, Tuesday. "I suppose Friday, the sixteenth. Minister Davis wants all werewolves properly registered by the next full moon, and that's the 20th, and… blasted inconvenient things, weekends."

He had been thumbing through the book, and he paused now, looking at her. "This thing is three hundred and fifty-seven pages," he said slowly. "You want me to read it and be prepared to sign documents regarding it in _three days_?"

"Yes, I know it's a bit of a crunch, but I must remind you that if you had kept your records updated with us properly, you would have gotten this a week ago." Remus felt about seven years old suddenly, and his eyes cast downward at the reprimand. Lara continued, "Now, we'll just put that aside for now and move on. Let's see now… ah yes, here we go. I'm going to need you to come with me," she stood and closed the door, beckoning for him to join her in the corner of the office. "I just need you to remove your clothes and step onto the scale for me."

"You want me to do what?" he asked, disbelieving.

"Just step out of your robe for me," she said, reaching as though to help him remove it. He took a step back, barely resisting the urge to Disapparate immediately.

"Is this really necessary?" he asked, trying to keep his voice calm.

"Quite," she affirmed with a brisk nod. "Now come on. I know it's uncomfortable, but it will be over soon if you just cooperate. Come on now."

_Uncomfortable_?No. Those chairs out in the waiting area were uncomfortable. This was bloody ridiculous. He folded his arms obstinately across his chest.

"And why is this necessary?" he asked.

"Now, Remus, don't upset yourself. Let's not make it worse than it is. I just need an accurate weight without your robes, and I need to make an inventory of any scars or distinguishing markings on your body. It's only going to take a few minutes and we'll be finished. Come on now, off with the robe."

He made no move to undress and she put her hands on her generous hips, tilting her head to one side. "Come on, now. Or do I need to call one of the watchmen to undress you?"

He took a deep breath, recognizing a dead end when he saw one, and lifted his robe over his head, then nudged his shoes off. He placed the robe on a nearby chair and forced himself to hold up his head as he stood in front of her wearing nothing but his underpants.

"Well," she said with a sigh, "that will do for the moment. Step onto the scale then." He stepped onto the scale obediently and she fiddled with the balance for a moment, then made a notation on her parchment. He started to step off, but she stopped him. "Not yet, Remus. I just need to get your height," she said, reaching up and extending a bar. It came to a halt above his head and she eased it down lower and lower until it was barely touching the top of his head. "Stand up straight for me," she ordered, and he straightened, avoiding her eyes. "There. You're a bit underweight, Remus," she mused softly as she made a few more scratches on her parchment.

He kept his mouth tightly shut.

"And let's see. Brown hair, blue eyes," she murmured, making a few more notes. "Scar across your left cheek. Scar across the right shoulder. Scar extending from left shoulder blade to right hip." She took his right hand and examined the back of it, then turned it over and examined the palm. Her eyes traveled from his wrist to his shoulder, then she turned his arm once more and looked him over from shoulder to wrist. "Scar above the right elbow, and one on the inside of right wrist." She let go of his hand and moved to his left side, repeating the thorough examination. "Scar on left forearm."

He endured her probing silently as she circled behind him, moving his hair aside to look at the back of his neck, then urging him to hold his arms out to the side while she looked over his back and ribs. She moved back to stand in front of him, her fingers probing through the hair on his chest as she noted the scar under just under his heart. She knelt then, and began the same thorough examination of the front of his right leg, then the left, then moved behind him once more to examine the backs of his legs. Her fingers touched a jagged scar behind his right knee. "Is this where you were bitten?" she asked.

"Yes," he replied stiffly, his eyes closed.

"All right then. I'll just need you to finish undressing," she said, making a few more notes on her parchment. He stood perfectly still. She couldn't possibly be serious. "Come on, Remus, really. You don't have anything I haven't seen. Besides, I thought you were anxious to put your robe back on? Just another minute or two and you'll be able to, if you cooperate for me now."

He had come to the conclusion that he did not like her patronizing tone. It was as though he were a small child, or perhaps a small animal, that was misbehaving.

"Do I need to help you, then?" she asked, and he closed his eyes, turning away from her.

"No, I don't need your help," he whispered, taking a deep breath and complying quickly before she made good on any one of her threats. True to her word, it only took another moment for her to finish examining him for scars and distinguishing features, and then she turned her back politely while he dressed again. When he sank into the chair in front of her desk once more, his face was red and he couldn't bring himself to meet her eyes.

"That wasn't so bad, now was it?" she asked, and he remained quiet, interpreting it as a rhetorical question. "Just a few more things and then you'll be done here. First, and most importantly, do you have a source for the Wolfsbane potion?"

He closed his eyes and wished fervently that he could tell her that he did, but he knew it would be a lie. There was only one wizard he knew who could brew the potion, and that was Severus Snape, who was quite rightly pissed off at him, and Remus had a feeling that nothing short of an order from Dumbledore would produce the potion. And if that order came, it would be an order that would produce it from that point on, and Remus still held out some small hope of making amends with Severus. It was much less worrisome to have the man for a friend than to have him for an enemy.

There were probably others who could brew the Wolfsbane, and Remus was sure he wouldn't have to go further than Diagon Alley to find it, but it would be dear, and he simply didn't have the money for it. This must be what it was like to die of thirst in the middle of the ocean.

"No," he whispered in answer to her question. "I don't."

"Hrm," she said, sounding appropriately concerned. "Then what is your plan for the full moon?"

The full moon? Hell. That was still a week away, and he had more pressing things to worry about tonight. "I'm still working on that."

"Remus," she said in a weary tone that one might use with a misbehaving child. "It is very irresponsible of you not to have a plan so close to the full moon. It is your obligation to take all appropriate and necessary precautions. I advise you to either find a means of procuring the Wolfsbane for yourself, or be prepared to turn yourself into Ministry custody for the duration of the full moon."

"Very well," he muttered.

"Does that mean you are going to be turning yourself in for protective custody?" she pressed.

"Yes. I'll come…"

"Friday," she filled in for him, and his eyes snapped to her suddenly.

"Friday?" he asked incredulously. "But the full moon isn't until Tuesday!"

"And the new Code requires that you be properly restrained for a full forty-eight hours prior to the full moon and twelve hours after. As the full moon is at 8:23 p.m., you will need to be restrained beginning 8:23 on Sunday. However, as the Ministry is not open on weekends, you will need to present yourself by six p.m. on Friday."

"Fine," he whispered blinking back the urge to slap that condescending tone out of her head.

She sat back in her chair and folded her arms, looking at him. "I think we've talked enough for one day," she said finally. "When you come back on Friday, we'll discuss a few other things. It will help for you to have read the Code."

He nodded jerkily.

"All right, then," she said, standing. She offered her hand again, and, taking a deep breath, Remus shook it once more. She opened the door and led him back through the waiting room and opened the door. "Do you remember how to get out?" she asked. "Third corridor on the right and…"

"Remus!"

He spun around, searching for the source of the familiar and comforting voice. Arthur Weasley was beaming as he cut a quick pace along the corridor to join them.

"Arthur Weasley!" Lara said with a laugh, bustling past Remus and into the hallway. She gave Arthur a hug as though he were a long lost friend.

"Lara!" Arthur replied, kissing her plump cheek. "I see you've met Remus."

"You know him?" she asked, her broad grin returning. She faced Remus again. "You didn't tell me you know Arthur Weasley!" she accused with a laugh.

"Must have slipped my mind," Remus replied tightly. Neither seemed to notice the edge to his voice, though.

"Are the two of you well acquainted?" she asked Arthur, and he grinned, his eyes meeting Remus' for a moment.

"Known each other for years," he replied. "Splendid young man, isn't he?"

"Quite," she agreed, and Remus wished the floor would just swallow him. Not that they'd notice if he just Disapparated; they were talking about him as though he weren't standing right there. "And quite dashing as well," she said with a wink.

That was the final insult. How dare she stand there and make comments like that when not ten minutes ago he'd been standing nude in front of her while she made record of every _scar_ on his body?

"I'd best be on my way," Remus said testily. "I have a bit of reading to do." Without another word, he stalked out of the room.


	2. Chapter 2: Incarceration

**Chapter 2: Incarceration**

_A/N: This chapter occurs between chapters 28 and 29 in For Tomorrow We May Die. _

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"Remus! There you are. Come on in, come in."

Remus looked up as Lara spoke to him and stifled a sigh. When he first met her, he'd thought she was a pretty woman, if a bit on the plump side, and her smiles had seemed genuine and inviting. Now she was almost evil incarnate.

"Lara," he said stiffly, standing. He picked up his briefcase and his copy of the Werewolf Code of Conduct and tried not to look at the others in the room. Half of them were children still, and he didn't particularly want to think about what trials they had in front of them. Almost everyone there looked despondent, which he could understand perfectly. He bordered on despondency himself far too often.

"Did you do your reading?" she asked as she ushered him into her office, her hand at his back. The first time he'd come, he'd thought it was a comforting gesture, and he'd allowed himself to be put at ease by her manner. This time, though, he was wary and quickened his pace slightly in an effort to outdistance her touch. He succeeded, moving to the far chair, where he stood until she had moved around her desk and seated herself.

"I did," he replied. "And I have questions."

"Wonderful!" she exclaimed. "That tells me you read carefully." Her smile was bright and cheerful. A little too cheerful for his taste. "Can I offer you tea, Remus?"

He hesitated, then nodded. "Thank you," he replied. He had a feeling he was going to be here for a while, so he might as well accept a bit of hospitality. She stood again and walked briskly to a sideboard, taking down a pair of cups and saucers and a white porcelain teapot. While she prepared the tea, he looked around, taking in his surroundings.

The office was considerably tidier than it had been three days ago. Gone were the piles of parchment and folders that had littered her desk, and the haphazard stacks of books had found homes on shelves. Her desk was clear except two folders, a dog-eared copy of the Werewolf Code of Conduct and a quill and ink. The framed certificates were lined neatly on the top shelf of her bookcase now, and he could clearly see each of them. Dark Art Defense League; NEWTs in Defense Against the Dark Arts, Care of Magical Creatures and Muggle Studies; Employee of the Month awards for January 1992 and April 1994; Hogwarts diploma dated 1985. She was a few years younger than he, then, as he'd first thought.

"Here we are," she said, placing the teacups on the desk, one in front of him and one in front of her chair. "Sugar?" she asked, offering a bowl of sugar cubes. He took two and stirred them into the steaming liquid.

"Thank you," he said, and she smiled brightly.

"You're welcome. Now, you said you have questions?"

He took a sip of his tea, then placed the cup back onto the saucer and opened his briefcase, removing a notebook and quill. "Yes," he replied, balancing the notebook on one knee and the Code on the other. "First, and most pressing, I suppose, since the Code was modified with the passing of the Magical Creatures Protection Act, am I correct in assuming that werewolves are counted as beasts again rather than beings?"

Lara lifted an eyebrow. "Remus, I really hope you are not taking the semantics too seriously," she said. "Minister Davis thought it best to combine all aspects of it into a single unit, and it was easier to move Support Services to the Beast division than to move both Capture and Registry to Being, but Minister Davis, and the entire Ministry, for that matter, recognizes that werewolves are special cases."

"Meaning subject to all the limitations and liabilities of both beasts and beings, yet privy to the privileges and protections of neither," he said levelly.

"Do you have a specific concern, or is this a rhetorical question?" she asked.

"It is a general question at the moment, but not rhetorical, given that I'd like an answer."

"Very well. For twenty-four hours prior to the full moon and twelve hours after, werewolves fall under the jurisdiction of the Beast Division. Forty-eight hours after the full moon until forty-eight hours prior to the next, they fall under the Being division."

"And that leaves," he paused, adding quickly, "sixty hours per month unaccounted for."

"You're very bright, Remus."

"I am an adult who has finished school and taught it myself," he replied.

Lara sighed quietly. "Yes," she said after a moment. "There is a considerable gray area. Let me ask you this. Have you ever taken the Wolfsbane?"

"I have."

"Then you know that with that potion, the effects of the full moon seldom last more than twenty-four hours. Your record indicates that you have been a werewolf for thirty years, which means your condition predates the Wolfsbane, and therefore I assume you are aware that without it…"

"The transformation is much less predictable," he finished for her, nodding.

"Yes," she replied. "We have been attempting to refine the laws somewhat, but it's difficult when there is such a wide error of margin. To restrict werewolves who have access to Wolfsbane based on the needs of those who do not would be… overly assertive."

Remus nodded.

"To lighten the restrictions on those who do not have access to the Wolfsbane based on the requirements of those who do would be…" She faltered this time, seeming to search for a word.

"Unconscionable," he suggested. Her eyes widened, but she nodded.

"Yes. It would be," she replied carefully.

"I am aware that werewolves are dangerous, Miss Berkeley," he began, and she interrupted.

"Lara. Really, Remus, I will not have you calling me Miss Berkeley."

He nodded, but continued without correcting his address. "You needn't hedge the issues with me. I am well aware of what I am and of what I become on a monthly basis. You do not have to educate me in regards to that. I am more concerned with what my rights are now that the Code of Conduct has tripled in length."

"Very well," she said, sipping her tea. "In answer to your question, then—for the sixty hours unaccounted for, werewolves are subject to both Being and Beast regulations. My official advice would be to exercise extreme caution for the forty-eight hours preceding and following each full moon, just to be safe. Give the Ministry no reason to be aware that you exist during that time."

Remus nodded and took a deep breath, then flipped to the next marked page in his copy of the Code. "I'm looking at page 297," he told her, and she raised an eyebrow, then reached for her copy of the code, flipping through it. "'The Relocation and Reconditioning Act states that if a Magical Creature, as defined by Article Seven of the Ministry Standard for Classification of Beasts and Beings, is causing undue duress or nuisance, the creature will be captured, removed, relocated and reconditioned as determined appropriate and necessary by the Department of Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures,'" he read. "Does that mean that if I'm irritating a neighbor, I'm subject to capture and release in another country?"

Lara laughed softly. "Technically, I suppose so," she replied. "But the DRCMC is not going to pass such a ruling against a werewolf if no tangible harm was done. And, to be perfectly frank, Remus, that law is directed at gnomes and nifflers. Garden pests. Creatures that are annoying, but not dangerous, and it is an attempt to get wizards to notify the Ministry and let us take care of the pest problem rather than just killing pesky critters. If it came down to it, yes, I suppose the law could apply to you, but in all honesty, if you managed to make such a nuisance of yourself that it required Ministry intervention, you would be tried as a wizard, and therefore subject to fines and restraining orders like any other." She leaned over the desk, clasping her hands in front of her. "Really, Remus, if I were you, I would concern myself with the sections B and C of Article Three. The laws specifically pertaining to werewolves, and the laws pertaining directly to werewolves. Don't work yourself into a dither over the laws that pertain indirectly, and do give us a bit of credit for judgement here."

"Of course," Remus replied neutrally. Give them credit for persecuting him under a different law if it meant a harsher penalty for the same infraction. He made a mental note to keep the legal definitions in mind and to obtain the most recently updated copy of the laws pertaining to magical creatures. Knowing his legal rights and finding the loopholes that the Ministry had left had never served him wrong before.

"Now, I'm surprised that you didn't have any questions regarding your rights or responsibilities," she said, flipping towards the front of her copy of the book.

"Oh, I do," Remus answered. "But right now I'm asking about the laws."

"Let's talk about responsibilities today, and registry and support services," she suggested with a smile. "I'm afraid we have rather limited time, though I will be more than happy to schedule another meeting with you, perhaps towards the end of next week or the beginning of the following, if you would like to discuss the laws. Now, if you have a question about the laws specifically pertaining to werewolves…"

He looked at her mildly. She had just answered another question, though one he wouldn't have asked directly. "No," he replied. "We can discuss responsibilities, registry and support services."

She nodded. "Excellent!" she exclaimed. "Let's start with the responsibilities, then. Did you understand the requirements outlined under the section on Management of the Condition?"

"Perfectly," he replied. "In short, it is my responsibility to see to it that I am not a danger during the full moon. The ministry advises the use of Wolfsbane Potion if it is available and if it is not, strongly urges the werewolf to voluntarily surrender to protective custody forty-eight hours in advance of the full moon. Whether or not the werewolf procures and properly takes the Wolfsbane, he is subject to execution on sight if he is spotted unrestrained while in his wolf form."

Lara frowned slightly, but nodded. "You have read thoroughly," she commented.

"As you pointed out earlier, I have lived with this condition for thirty years. I am rather used to changes in the Code, and very familiar with the previous three adaptations of the document. This is, however, the first time the Ministry has condoned the unrestrained violence against any Magical Creature that I am aware of."

"The Ministry condones it in the case of extremely dangerous creatures," Lara replied. "Nundus and lethifolds and quintapeds, for instance…"

"Are not commonly found in populated areas of England," he finished for her. "And are not classified as Beings at any time of the month, and are not sentient. But I'm not here to debate the ethics of the Ministry, am I?"

"No," she answered softly. "You are not."

"Are you satisfied that I am well-versed in my responsibilities?"

"Yes."

"Did I cover the basics of my obligations to society?"

"I believe so. You are aware…"

"If it is in the Code, I am aware of it, Miss Berkeley," he replied testily.

She sighed. "When you call me Miss Berkeley, it reminds me of when I was a child at Hogwarts. Please, Remus, we are both adults and I prefer you call me Lara."

So he was putting her at a disadvantage by calling her Miss Berkeley. Interesting. He tucked that into his mind for future reference. "The registry then," he went on, not acknowledging her request.

"Yes," she said. "The registry. Since you read so thoroughly, I suppose I do not have to tell you that you are required to keep updated contact information with the Ministry."

"And I believe I told you last time we spoke that I do not have more updated information that what you have. Albus Dumbledore will know where to find me, or how to contact me. That is the best I can offer." He was quickly growing irritated with her, and she with him if her expression was any indication.

"The Ministry has a number of public housing units, and three are specifically suited for werewolves. They provide complimentary transportation to and from all meetings with your advisor—"

"I am perfectly capable of Apparating, or barring that of taking the tube."

"—And also access to all Ministry support services—"

"I don't need the charity."

"—as well as providing you with reminders when the full moon draws near and seeing to your adherence to the Code—"

"And I do not need help managing my condition."

"I'm going to give you the address to the nearest one, and advise you to speak with the proprietor."

If either was listening to a word the other was saying, neither acknowledged it.

"I think we've had enough for one day," she said after a moment, capping her ink bottle again and placing her copy of the Code aside. "But before you go, I have a word of advise. I would strongly encourage you to adjust your attitude, Remus. I am here to help you, and I am your connection to the Ministry, and your advocate. Now, I am willing to make certain allowances, but the next time we meet, I expect you to leave your belligerence behind."

"Don't patronize me," he said quietly. "I've been playing this game for thirty years. I understand the rules."

"I am not patronizing you, Remus. I honestly care about you and about your condition." There was something in her eyes that made him believe her. Irritating, patronizing, oblivious perhaps, but honest. "Now, you are giving yourself over into protective custody, correct?"

He closed his eyes and sighed heavily. "Yes," he replied after a moment.

"Then let's get you to your holding unit."

"Call it what it is, Lara. It's a cell."

"Very well," she replied, standing. "We'll get you settled in, regardless of what you wish to call it. Come." She gestured for him to follow, and he picked up his briefcase and copy of the Code of Conduct. then followed her down the hall and through another door where a guard was standing. "Lupin, Remus," she told the guard, "case number 33795009." The guard made a notation in his book, handed her a box, then nodded over his shoulder.

"Number fourteen."

"Come along, Remus," she said, ushering him into a cell. It was a plain rectangular room, possibly eight feet by twelve feet, made entirely of stone. As Lara stepped inside, her footsteps echoed off the walls and ceiling. There was no furniture in the cell, not even a bed or washstand. Not even a toilet. Just a blanket folded in the corner.

"All right," she said, opening the box. "Wand in here, and your briefcase, and clothes."

"My clothes," he repeated.

"Yes," she said firmly. "No one is going to see you, Remus. Just hand them over now."

He turned away from her and nudged his shoes off with his toes, then picked them up and placed them in the box she held. He removed his socks next, and they joined the shoes. He hesitated.

"Come on, Remus. Is this going to be a battle every time we meet?"

"Is this going to be a requirement every time we meet?" he asked in reply.

"Yes," she answered and he closed his eyes. "I will be documenting your scars every month before and after the full moon. Normally I'd do that now, but since the initial assessment was only three days ago, it should be more than sufficient. Come on now, give me the robe."

He took a deep breath, then lifted the robe over his head, his face burning as she took it from him.

"Remus…" she said with a warning tone as he hesitated again. "I will call the guard if I need to."

Steeling himself, he finished undressing, depositing his underpants into the box as well. She closed the lid and placed a seal over the edge. "You'll get this back when you leave," she told him, and her footsteps retreated towards the door. Remus was standing with his back to her still, hugging himself against the humiliation and chill of the situation. He waited expectantly for the door to shut, but it didn't. Instead, he heard her footsteps returning into the cell again, and a moment later, he felt the scratchy wool of the blanket being draped over his shoulders.

"It's going to be all right," Lara whispered, and he found himself pulled into her arms for a brief embrace. She squeezed the back of his neck and rubbed his shoulder soothingly. Despite himself, he leaned into her embrace, reluctant to turn away from the last human contact he expected to have for nearly five days. "I'll check on you first thing Monday morning," she promised, then patted his cheek. She smiled, her eyes affixed firmly to his as she stepped away. "And don't you go telling anyone I did that," she cautioned. "I'm not supposed to touch you."

She walked towards the door again, and this time he did hear it close with a resounding click. For a long moment, he just stood there in the middle of the cell, blinking rapidly, determined not to give in to the overwhelming sense of desolation.

"Come on, Mrs. Murphy," Lara's voice carried down the corridor from one of the other cells. "Edward will be just fine. I promise."

"He's only seven," came another female voice, this one thick with tears. Remus sank slowly to the floor, leaning against the wall, his eyes closed.

"I know," Lara said comfortingly. "But he's safe here. No one can hurt him. Come on."

He felt the first hot tear roll down his cheek. He wanted so desperately to hate Larentia Berkeley, but he knew in his heart that she honestly cared. It had been easier to hate the Ministry and its laws when it didn't have a kind face attached to it.

"I'll be okay, mum," another voice came drifting down the corridor, this one belonging to a child. He sounded like he was trying very hard to be brave.

"Mummy loves you, Edward. Mummy'll be back first thing Wednesday morning, as soon as she can," came the broken, tear-laden voice.

"I love you too." It was either a loud whisper or a soft statement, and then there was another clicking of a door.

A few moments later, there was utter silence. Somewhere towards the back of the unit, a muffled sob rose, echoing off the walls. Remus tried to tune it out, but to no avail, and if he had any comfort that night, it was knowing that he wasn't the first to break.


	3. Chapter 3: Accommodation

Madness

Chapter 3: Accommodation

_A/N: This chapter occurs after Chapter 28, and coincides with chapter 29 in For Tomorrow We May Die. _

_-----------------------------_

"Remus?"

He lay curled in the corner, not asleep but not truly awake. He was conscious, but that meant little. He wasn't sure what day it was, or what time of day; there were no windows and no sense of night and day. Just the dim artificial light from somewhere above. It was some time after six Friday evening and before eight Tuesday night. He thought it might be Saturday night, but wasn't sure. He only knew it wasn't Tuesday night yet because he had not yet transformed.

He'd spent most of his life dreading the next transformation, but this time, he almost looked forward to it. Once he transformed, it would only be a few hours until his release. A release that seemed an eternity away still, as he'd already passed an eternity dark solitude, separated from the others by a wall of mutual despair.

Five times, a guard had delivered a plate of food and mug of water, and once Remus had eaten. He emptied the water every time it was brought and asked for more every time a guard came around, which seemed as though it was likely regularly, though without any sense of time, he couldn't detect a pattern to it. The guard always complied and brought him more, and the last two times he'd been around, he'd had the water with him already.

He'd heard the guard's low voice speaking to the children one time, telling them not to tell on him. Remus wondered what he'd brought them. From the crinkling sound that followed, he rather thought it was candy. If he were in their place, it was something he'd do—giving chocolate to children who were trapped in a place with a condition they had not asked for and yet were responsible for controlling.

"Remus Lupin? I need you to acknowledge me, or I cannot open the door."

It was Lara's voice, and Remus was torn. Torn between desperately wanting to speak with someone, to spend even a few moments in the presence of another, and not wanting to face another human being. He hardly felt human as it was, and he was confused enough about how he regarded Lara to not want to invite more uncertainty when he had nothing but hours upon hours to think about it.

"Remus, please speak to me."

"What do you want me to say?" he asked blandly. That, apparently, was good enough, as he heard the clicking of a key being inserted into the door and then turning. The lock sprung, and then the door opened outward, revealing Lara standing there, a guard behind her.

"Just give me a few minutes with him," she told the guard. "Go on, it will be all right." The guard looked a bit doubtful, but stepped outside the cell. Lara looked around and shook her head, removing her wand. "_Scourgify_," she said softly, and two and a half days' worth of filth disappeared. "I think perhaps we made an error in judgement regarding these holding units," she confided, lowering herself to the floor beside Remus. "I've already scheduled a meeting with Minister Davis about having some plumbing installed in them."

He continued to stare at the opposite wall, not meeting her eyes. "You might also suggest clocks or some such," he said blandly. "I presume it's Monday if you're here?"

"Yes," she replied. "Maybe around nine, Monday, 19 August. Guard? Do you have the time?" she called.

"Quarter past nine," he answered.

Lara nodded at Remus. "Quarter past nine," she repeated unnecessarily. "If you asked, I'm sure the guard would have told you."

He nodded again, still not looking at her.

"I know it's difficult to believe, Remus, but you're really not a prisoner here. You have many privileges and rights, and the guards have been instructed to be very accommodating within reason."

He nodded again.

"I know it's uncomfortable in here," she said, shifting slightly. "Merlin knows that I'm already uncomfortable and I've only been here for a few minutes."

"I suppose a chair and a book would be out of the question," he muttered.

"The chair, yes," she replied. "I've already fought that battle, and, well, it was pointed out that once the transformation takes place, any furniture would merely be something for a werewolf to destroy."

"None of us were going to transform over the weekend," he pointed out, finally looking at her. "And any fourth year Hogwarts student could perform the Vanishing Charm to remove the furniture. These cells could have been considerably more comfortable, particularly considering we were all here a full forty-eight hours before required by law."

Lara nodded this time. "An excellent point," she said. "I will bring it up with the Minister. And use of the shower facilities would not go amiss either? I'm afraid it's out of the question this month, but next month, perhaps daily opportunities to clean up. Shave," she said with a bit of a smile as she tweaked the three-day growth on his jaw.

He jerked his head away from her. He still couldn't bring himself to hate her; she was being too sympathetic and reasonable. But, he couldn't help thinking that these should not have been requests someone would have to make. Even condemned prisoners would have had basics like showers and toilets.

"As far as books go… I'll bring that up with Minister Davis as well. I don't see why not, though the Ministry would not be responsible for them if they were destroyed."

Remus nodded, looking at the wall again.

"I'm glad you're telling me these things, Remus. This has been our first attempt at it as well, and I know that there are plenty of kinks to be ironed out. Just be patient with us, and keep making these reasonable requests, and I'll do my best to see that every month is a little more comfortable."

He sighed.

"I'm counting on you, Remus, because you're bright and reasonable, and you don't accept things for just what they are. I knew from the first time I spoke with you that you were going to be a valuable asset if I could keep you talking, and so far you have. I'm very open to your suggestions. I just need you to keep making them."

"Are you asking the others for their advice too, or am I the appointed spokesman? Or spokesbeast as the case might be."

She sighed. "I'm going to ignore that last bit," she said. "And I am asking them for their input. Edward, for example, is seven, and he's two doors down. He thought it would be nice if Honeydukes chocolate were given to everyone at night."

Remus exhaled in a weak imitation of laughter.

"I didn't tell him that I could smell the chocolate he's been eating," she said with a smile. "And I don't even want to know which guard slipped it to him. I think it's wonderful if the guards are offering those bits of kindness, and there's no harm in it."

He continued to stare at the opposite wall.

"Think on it a bit more, Remus. We'll continue this conversation after you've had a chance to recover from the transformation. I'm very interested in what you have to say."

He nodded. She placed a hand on his arm and squeezed gently.

"I'd give you a hug if I didn't think it would upset you," she offered quietly.

For a moment, he was tempted to assure her that it would not, but he held his tongue. After a brief silence, she stood and brushed off her robe.

"Have you any complaints about the way you're being treated, Remus? I know that the situation isn't the best, but…"

"I'm fine," he interrupted.

She nodded. "I'll try to get back in to see you again before I leave tonight," she assured him. "But if I don't, it will be Wednesday before I return."

Remus nodded again.

"Let the guard know if you need anything," she told him, and a moment later, he heard the door click shut.

Lara did not return that evening, though the next morning, Remus heard her voice outside asking the guard if all was well. At one point, a guard delivered a tray of food, and Remus heard his voice on the other side of the door advising him to eat as there would not be another meal served that evening. Remus wasn't the least bit hungry, and did not touch the tray.

The transformation was difficult, the first one he had endured in three years without the aid of the Wolfsbane Potion, and though he didn't remember it, he made a very good case for the Ministry for exactly why there was to be no furniture, nor anything else that could be destroyed, in the cells. By midnight, he'd ripped his blanket to shreds, and, having nothing else to rage against had proceeded to curl up in a corner, biting at his own arm. With the rising of the sun, he transformed back into himself, and he would not remember that transformation at all, except that afterwards, he was exhausted and felt utterly defeated.

On Wednesday morning, promptly at 8:23, the cell block became a flurry of activity as witches and wizards from the Department of Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures descended into the cells in twos and threes. There were sharp cries of disgust and surprise, frantic calls for healers, and two loudly slammed doors followed by panicked announcements—two of the werewolves had not yet returned to their human forms.

There was a knock on his cell door, followed by a firm masculine voice. "Remus Lupin?"

Remus was crouched in the corner, dazed and weary, but he gathered his strength to respond with a weak, "Yes."

The door opened and two wizards stepped in, both younger than he by a fair margin. One of them hurled a cleaning spell into the cell and ducked his head back into the corridor, calling to an undisclosed person that they needed another blanket. The second wizard crouched at his side, firmly touching his neck and pressing his fingers against his arm.

"How are you feeling?" he asked, sounding as though he didn't care about the answer.

"Fine," Remus lied.

The wizard helped him to stand, and a moment later the second wizard returned with another blanket, which he draped around Remus' shoulders.

"There's someone here to pick you up, Remus," the second wizard said with a smile, sliding a supportive arm around Remus' back.

He was led through one corridor and then another, finally deposited into a room with a three chairs and a writing desk in it. There was a basin of soapy water and a sponge and towel sitting on the desk, and the wizard guided him to one of the chairs, then nudged the bowl of water closer to him. "Lara will be in shortly," the wizard said. "You can clean up a bit if you want while you're waiting."

Remus nodded mutely, though in all honesty he didn't give a damn how filthy he was. He didn't move, and after a moment, the wizard rolled up his sleeves and reached for the sponge, squeezing it out. "Let me help you," he offered, and Remus found himself subjected to a hasty and ineffectual sponge bath that would have been the last assault on his wounded pride if he'd been in any position to argue. The kind, if somewhat incompetent wizard finished hastily and dropped the sponge back into the water, pulling Remus' blanket about his shoulders again. "There, that's a little better. You know, I probably should have told you my name. I'm Alex. Sorry 'bout that, mate. The Ministry hasn't developed a protocol for all this yet, so we're all kinda playing it by ear."

Remus knew that. It was essentially what Lara had said, only she'd been a bit more professional about it. It made it particularly hard to remain upset with them when they were trying to be sensitive and helpful. And he had to admit that they were trying. They weren't succeeding, but they were certainly giving it a go.

Silence settled around them an Remus closed his eyes. Alex, however, seemed a bit nervous, and apparently thought that filling the silence with prattle would make the situation a bit less awkward.

"I actually came over from the Goblin Liaison Office to help out. Slow over there right now, and we were sent a memo that Werewolf Support Service needed all the extra help it could get this morning. I don't think they were quite wanting 'all' the extra help they could get, though, right? I mean, it was kinda crowded back there in the cell—er, well, back there."

Remus nodded slightly, not really listening.

"In fact, about half the Pest Advisory Board is here. Not that werewolves are pests, mind you, but I think they get tired of doxies and horklumps. Can't say I blame 'em. At least there's interesting conversation with the goblins, when they bother to come. Say, you don't need—"

"That will do, Alex," Lara's voice floated into the room ahead of her and Remus opened his eyes. "Thank you. You can go back to your own office now. I think we have enough help here."

"Nice to meet you, Remus," the young wizard said, and a moment later the door closed.

Lara was shaking her head as she sat. "Honestly," she muttered. "Next month we're going to do this differently. Very differently. He didn't talk your ear off, did he? I swear the lad never shuts up."

Despite himself, Remus smiled and shook his head. "He's fine," he muttered.

"Good," Lara said, opening the folder. "I'm more concerned about you just now, though." She moved the blanket from his shoulders and frowned. "You've blood on your arm, here," she leaned forward and brushed a fingertip against his right shoulder. "An odd place if you'd done that to yourself. No one has hurt you, taken advantage of you, have they?"

"I probably fell against the wall," Remus muttered, and Lara nodded.

"Think you can stand, then? I need to give you a quick once over. It won't even take as long as the first one did. Up we go," she helped him up, and the only balm to what would have been an utterly humiliating experience was that he was too tired to care. After a few moments, she put aside the folder she'd been writing in and picked up the blanket, wrapping it around his shoulders once more. "There now," she said soothingly, "all done. Your friend has your things, and he's waiting just across the hall. I'm going to get one of the guards to help you across." She put her head out the door and called for a guard, and then turned back to him. "Now, I've scheduled a meeting with you again on Monday the 26th, and I'll see that your friend has that information. You look a bit tired to be thinking a week into the future."

Remus found himself hoisted up and he stumbled across the hall with the aid of the guard, into a room where he expected to see Albus Dumbledore. He did not, however. Instead it was Snape. If he'd had the energy, he would have cursed heaven and hell and all points between. Where was Dumbledore? Remus could have crumpled into a heap on the floor just then.

"Good God," Snape whispered, and Remus felt himself being shifted from the guard's arms to Snape's. "What did they do to you? Remus?"

Remus didn't bother to answer. Didn't have strength to answer. Severus deposited him unceremoniously into a chair and knelt in front of him, looking into his eyes. After a moment, Remus looked away. Of all the people he didn't particularly want to see right now, Severus Snape was towards the top of the list. And it was bitter, because even two weeks ago, the Potions Master would have been one of his first choices as someone to trust.

"Remus?" Snape asked again, then hesitated. "Your clothes are in here," he said, the familiar frown returning to his sharp features. "So you need to get dressed. I'm not dressing you."

Remus snorted softly. "Sod off," he whispered, wishing he had the energy to sound more adamant. He meant it.

"I ought to, you know," Severus muttered, taking the lid off the box. "And I really had every intention of just leaving you here."

A sneer curled Remus' lips. Leave it to the greasy git to play the 'you-owe-me-big' card. "Then you have my gratitude. Is that what you want?" Remus stared at him blankly for a moment, then shook his head. "Just get out of here. Where's Dumbledore?"

Severus was quiet for a moment, then said, "He had another pressing matter. He asked me to see to… this." Severus put his robe in his hands, and Remus just held it for a minute.

Of course. Dumbledore had more important things to worry about than a werewolf. It stung, but Remus was an adult and could accept that. At least, he told himself he could. "What sort of pressing matter?" he asked, almost before realizing he'd spoken.

"I didn't ask," Severus replied briskly, then pointed at the robe he was still holding. "Put that on."

Severus stood and stalked away, leaving Remus to sit and contemplate his misery alone. So Dumbledore had pressing business. Couldn't he have found someone else to come? Someone a little more inclined to treat people as humans? Remus had already had more than enough dehumanization for one lifetime, but the torture, it seemed, would continue.

A moment later, Severus returned, offering a damp flannel. "Here," he said, and Remus took it from him, but just held it as well, atop his robe in his lap. Which obviously wasn't good enough. . "Come on, you imbecile," Severus muttered, snatching the flannel away from him again. "You're supposed to use that on your face."

Remus closed his eyes, fervently wishing Severus would go away. Severus just sighed.

"Then just sit there like a log. You're a grown man and I am _not _bathing you."

"Just leave me alone," Remus whispered, his face reddening. Couldn't the man at least leave him his dignity? Maybe they'd never been the best of friends, but hadn't their tenuous attempts counted for _anything_?

"I can't, Lupin. You see, if I leave, they put you back in that cell."

"Let them." He didn't care. In fact, he wasn't sure the cell wasn't preferable to this, actually.

"Just cooperate for once in your life," Severus muttered, taking his chin between long fingers and applying the cloth to his face. From most people, the gesture would have seemed kind, but from Severus it was as demeaning as every word from his mouth. "I'm taking you home, and I rather think you'd prefer not to arrive looking like this."

"I don't care." And he didn't.

"That is becoming increasingly obvious," Severus retorted, scrubbing harder suddenly. Hard enough to make Remus wince. "But you'll care tomorrow."

"Why are you here?" Remus asked pointedly as Severus softened his touch.

"Because someone had to come and sign the papers to get you out of here."

"But why you?"

Severus paused in his scrubbing, and for an instant, Remus felt something unspoken pass between them. The moment passed quickly, though, and Severus stood abruptly. "Enough questions. Just get dressed."

Remus turned his robe over in his hands, but he hadn't the energy to pull it over his head. All he wanted to do was sleep. Couldn't they have just left him there for another day? After all, he'd already been there nearly five days, what would one more have hurt? At least he'd have slept through this one instead of being awake and acutely aware of his misery.

"I thought I told you to get dressed." Severus had returned obviously.

"I know I told you to sod off," Remus replied, less scathingly than he would have preferred.

"Well," Severus muttered, snatching the robe from Remus' lap, "at least whatever they did to you didn't injure your temper."

Remus snorted softly. _And who the hell are you to be talking about tempers_? The sour thought was interrupted by his robe suddenly dropping over his head. Severus jerked the neck roughly over his head, and then muttered, "You could help me, you know. I'm not exactly used to dressing other people."

For a minute, Remus just stared blankly at him, a retort on his lips. He didn't have the energy to voice it, though, so settled for moving his arms into the sleeves and settling the robe down over his hips.

"That's better," Severus muttered, reaching for the box again. He stared at the contents for a moment, and finally pulled out shoes and socks. "Here, think you can manage your socks or do I need to do that for you too?"

"Would you please just leave me alone?" Remus asked miserably.

Severus sighed and picked up one of his feet. "No," he replied, rolling a sock roughly over toes, heel and ankle. "I won't. You see, when I tell someone I'll do something, I do it."

"I'm not your obligation."

"No, you're not," Severus snapped. "But I told Dumbledore I'd see you home, and so I shall. Now either help me or stop fighting."

Remus snatched the other sock away from Severus and jerked his foot away. The jackass couldn't even lie and say it was no bother, could he? Severus straightened again and peered into the box once more. "Do you want anything else out of here besides your wand?" he asked.

"There's probably a folder in there," Remus muttered, slipping a foot into his shoe.

Snape rummaged for a moment, then came up with the folder. "Anything else?"

"You're not throwing any of it out," Remus said defensively. Again, Severus hesitated.

"I wasn't intending to," Severus replied, his tone almost soft as he knelt in front of Remus again and peered into his eyes. "What did they do to you?"

For a moment, Remus could almost believe Severus cared. He wanted someone to care. He'd been there for Severus during moments when the other wizard had needed to be reminded he was human, and he'd attempted to do that. He'd had comforting words and a comforting hand for the other man. At least, he hoped he'd been comforting. He'd been trying to be comforting. It was too much to ask in return, though, obviously. "Stop pretending like you give a damn," Remus answered, and Severus scowled.

"Fine. Let's go." Severus stood abruptly again and gathered the box, Remus' wand, the folder, and the stack of parchment he'd been given by the receptionist. Remus didn't move. "Will you get up from there? I can't carry you."

Get up from there. Yeah. Easier said than done. Remus couldn't have moved if his life depended on it. In fact, if his life depended on it, he might have sat there anyway just so it would be over.

With an expression of long-suffering patience, Severus shifted the items he was holding to one hand and reached for Remus with the other. "Come on," he said gruffly.

"Can you be just a little ruder?" Remus asked. "I think there's some small part of me that's still pretending to be a person, but I'm sure you could remedy that."

Severus slipped an arm around Remus' shoulders and Remus struggled to stand, even with the scant help. "Come on," Severus repeated. His tone was a bit softer at least. "Can you walk?"

"Yeah."

They made their way slowly to the door and Severus ushered Remus out into the corridor and right into the path of Lara Berkeley.

"Oh! Remus! You found your friend I see. He looks well, doesn't he?" She directed this question to Severus.

Remus gave her a harsh look. Even if she meant well, there was a limit to the condescending comments he was willing to ignore.

"If you think he looks well, you need glasses," Severus said bluntly. So typical. Making wisecracks even when Remus hadn't the strength to defend himself. "Now, if you will kindly direct us to the exit from this place?"

"He only has the one cut on his arm," Lara pointed out. "One of our werewolves very nearly chewed his arm off last night." Remus flinched at that, and considered asking who, but Severus preempted his concerns.

"If you base your assessments on the fact that a person's limbs remain in tact after the full moon, I think you need to re-evaluate your standards. And perhaps take into consideration the scars that you don't see," Severus told her, and Remus looked at him oddly. Had he heard that correctly? Severus was moving again, giving Remus no choice but to follow, and a moment later they were in the reception room.

"Mr. Snape?" the receptionist called through the window. "I have a message for you."

Severus muttered something incomprehensible under his breath and deposited Remus in a chair. "Stay there," he commanded, and Remus bit the urge to ask if he should beg and play dead next.

Whatever the message was, it didn't take long for Snape to receive it, and he returned, sliding an arm about his waist once more, helping him out into the corridor.

Well," Severus muttered once the door had shut firmly behind them. "That has to be one of the least pleasant places I've been in a while."

"Tell me about it," Remus muttered in reply before it occurred to him that they'd almost shared a civilized exchange just then.

Severus propped him against a wall and shifted everything he was carrying, peering at it. "Do you think we'll need any of these papers to get out of here?" he asked.

"The folder," Remus muttered, closing his eyes and leaning his head against the wall.

"All right. Here, take this," Remus felt his fingers curling around the handle of his wand, and a moment later, Severus spoke again. "Do you think you're up to Apparating?"

"Yeah."

"Are you sure?"

"Quite," Remus muttered, jerking away from Severus. If Severus could Apparate after being hit with three Cruciatus Curses, Remus could Apparate after a transformation.

"Come on, then," Severus muttered. They took the lift to the Atrium, and Severus turned in his visitor's badge. "And what do you need out of this folder?" he asked the guard.

"There should be a page with a case number on it," the guard said, sounding bored, and Severus shoved the entire folder at him.

"Then find what you need and do what you must," he snapped.

Remus leaned against the wall and closed his eyes again, hoping this wouldn't take long.

"Are you the wizard claiming responsibility for this creature?" Remus cringed inwardly, but kept quiet.

"I am claiming responsibility for this _wizard_," Severus replied, putting a delicate emphasis on 'wizard'. Remus opened one eye to peer at him.

"Then I need you to sign here, stating that you have been informed of the creature's needs and that you agree to fulfilling the requirements of the Magical Creature Protection Act as stated on page fourteen of the information packet you received in the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures. It is my duty to inform you that under this law, if it is found that this creature has suffered any ill effects due to willful negligence or abuse on your part, you will be held liable under Article four of the Magical Creature Protection Act and therefore subject to fines and imprisonment as is determined appropriate by the Department of Magical Law Enforcement."

Remus closed his eyes again halfway through that speech.

"Date there, please, and initial here and here," the guard said, quill scratching. "And the same thing on this one."

"Why do I need to do it twice?" Severus asked.

"Because all forms are in duplicate, one copy to the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures and one for the creature's own records."

Remus flinched again.

"And this form acknowledges that you are taking one Remus J. Lupin, case number 33795009, from Ministry protective custody, and that you release the Ministry from liability for his actions until and unless he is returned to Ministry custody. Further, you acknowledge that his next appointment with his advisor is on Monday, 26 August, and he is to be here at 10:15 am—"

"Am I responsible for seeing that he's here for this appointment?" Severus asked, and Remus sneered into the air. _That's right, Severus. Make sure you don't have to have anything to do with me_.

"No," the guard replied. "Just acknowledging that you have been made aware of it. And further, you are acknowledging that Remus is leaving the Ministry custody in sound physical condition."

There was no sound of quill scratching this time, and when Remus opened his eyes, Severus was looking doubtfully at him. Remus waved at the parchment.

"Very well," Severus muttered, and scribbled his name across the parchment, then again across the second copy of it.

"And this form—"

"How many forms are there?"

_For fuck's sake, Severus, just sign the goddamn forms_.

"Six," the guard replied, then continued as though he hadn't been interrupted. "This form states that you have been made aware of the Ministry's need to be able to locate all registered werewolves, and that you are aware that this creature has reported that he does not have a permanent address, but has listed Albus Dumbledore as a contact who will be able to find him if the Ministry needs to communicate with him."

"Then I'm responsible for seeing that he gets his owl post?"

"No, sir. Just that this information is correct to the best of your knowledge—that to your knowledge he does not have a permanent address and that Albus Dumbledore would know where to find him."

Severus scribbled again.

"And this form is informational for us. I need you to fill out the lines marked with an 'x'. Name, date of birth, address to reach you." The quill scratched against the parchment, and then paused, and the guard said, "I need a signature."

Severus bent over the parchment again.

"And this one simply states that Remus J. Lupin, case number 33795009 has been released into your custody."

_Aren't we nearly done? I'm about to start giving that case number as my name_.

"I thought I already signed one that said that."

"You signed one that said you were taking him. This one acknowledges that he has been released."

The quill scratched at the parchment again.

"Remus, I'll need your signature on this one as well," the guard said.

Lupin gave the man a nasty look but shoved away from the wall and signed both copies of the parchment with a shaky scrawl.

The guard shuffled parchments, placing several of them in the folder before handing it back to Severus. Severus pocketed it briskly.

"You're free to go then. Apparation area is through the door on the right, street entrance is through the door on the left. Have a good day."

"Two and a half hours," Severus muttered. "This has to be the most ridiculous waste of time I've ever imagined."

"Thank you," Lupin replied bitterly. "I'll tell Dumbledore not to waste your time next month."

Severus glared at him. "Stuff it, Lupin. And no, we won't be doing this next month."

Remus certainly hoped not. "Sod off."

"That's the third time you've told me to do that, you bloody prat. Give up."

Lupin straightened. He was still weak, and too weak to actually be walking of his own accord, but where his strength failed him, his pride held him up. He noticed that Severus did not remove his arm from about his waist though. It was oddly comforting, and for a moment, Remus almost considered seeking emotional support from the other wizard.

"Are you sure you're up to Apparating?" Severus asked quietly as they approached the pair of doors.

"Positive," Lupin muttered. He just wanted to be back in his own bed.

"I'll meet you in the kitchen, then," Severus said quietly.

"You're coming too?"

"I have half your belongings in a box in my pocket," Severus retorted. "I certainly don't want to keep them for sentimental value."

Right. Remind him that all his possessions could fit easily into a cardboard box that Severus could carry with one hand. And of course none of it was worth keeping. His irritation and offense was enough to spur his Apparation. Once he was in the kitchen, what strength he had found in his conviction to not make a fool of himself bled out, and it was fortunate that Severus Apparated in right behind him and caught him.

Severus deposited him into a chair, muttering, "This was a bad idea." Remus' eyes drifted shut. "Stay there," Severus told him, his voice sounding distant and cold, almost like an echo. The last thing he remembered before unconsciousness swept over him was Severus asking if he was able to walk. He hoped distantly that his lack of response would suffice as an answer.

------------------

_A/N:_

_First, I promise I won't do this often-- the identical chapter except shift in perspective. I did want to use the technique here, though, because Severus and Lupin are clearly not on the same wavelength and I wanted to explore how the one might interpret the other's actions and reactions. It grew tedious quickly (though in rereading, I think the read is more interesting than the write was) so I won't be doing it again without good reason._

_Cecelle: My model for Lara was a cross between nurse, social worker and government official. Lara is extremely well-developed in my head, and she fascinates me, I must say. I don't think she sees them as cattle or as cases even, but she also doesn't necessarily see them as human. More on that in later updates, though, but I'm glad you picked up on that. That's exactly where I wanted to go with her-- the friendly and kind demeanor, and obviously good intentions in someone who just plain misses the boat in terms of how she treats him. I hope that came out even more in this chapter._

_Silverthreads: Poor Edward?! Poor Lupin!! (j/k) I thought Edward was a nice touch._

_duj: don't you know it?_

_Gina: good! I was wondering how long it would take me to make someone cry ;) Seriously... I meant it to be gut-wrenching. And I don't really intend to lay off for a while._

_Hecate: Thank you! I've always felt that the emotional stuff was my strong point, so I really enjoy seeing reviews like that. I do try very hard to draw out the emotion. My own measure of a good book is that at some point it should make me laugh, cry and want to throttle the author. ;)_


	4. Chapter 4: Solicitation

**Chapter 4: Solicitation**

_A/N: This chapter occurs after Chapter 29, and partially overlaps Chapter 30 in For Tomorrow We May Die. _

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He groaned as he rolled over, and his first thought was, _God, I'm getting too old for this._ He was stiff and sore, every muscle in his body screaming in protest as he moved. He opened his eyes slowly, fully expecting to be blinded by a bright afternoon light, but he was not. Instead, his eyes were caressed by welcome darkness broken only by a softly glowing lamp on the bedside table. There was a glass of water there as well, beads of condensation glimmering faintly on the outside of the tumbler.

Slowly, he shifted into a seating position. He didn't want to get out of bed, but it had ceased to be a matter of what he wanted—his bladder was going to explode if he didn't do something about it soon. Scrubbing a hand over his face, he grimaced as a pungent odor assaulted his nostrils and he examined his palm. Utterly filthy. He was used to being exhausted after a full moon, but usually someone coaxed him into a shower before they let him crawl into bed to sleep until afternoon. Glancing at the soiled pillowslip and sheet, he frowned slightly, then shoved the half-formed memories aside as he stood and stumbled his way to the bathroom. He could ponder the details of his transformations after he took a piss.

As he emptied his bladder, his head filled with disjointed images and memories, and as he washed his hands, staring at the filth that blackened the sink as he scrubbed, the full memory crashed against him, like a wave breaking on a rocky shore. He drew in his breath sharply and clutched the side of the sink, closing his eyes against the recollection of four and a half days in a cold cell that was barely suitable as an animal pen and certainly not appropriate for human occupancy, and he knew precisely where the filth had come from. With a grunt of disgust, he flung off his robe and tossed it to the floor, avoiding looking at himself in the mirror as he cut on the water in the shower. He thrust a hand into the stream and barely waited for the chill to cease before stepping into it and closing his eyes.

As the grime and dirt and other things he didn't even want to think about washed away from his body, he felt the rising anger again at the entire situation. The Ministry's new law to 'protect' werewolves by imprisoning them. The inhuman conditions that he and nearly two dozen others—many children—had suffered for four days. The humiliation and degradation of the entire situation. He thrust his head under the water and scrubbed furiously at his hair, trying to ignore an unsolicited voice that reminded him that as often as he and Sirius and James had made fun of Severus for being greasy, the scrawny Slytherin had never even approached the level he was at the moment.

Severus. Remus groaned again and turned his face towards the shower head, wishing it would drown him. Severus had been the one to come retrieve him from the Ministry. Dumbledore had been 'occupied' he'd said. A polite way of saying that the man whom Remus so respected and admired had better things to do than pick up werewolves after their imprisonment in the Department of the Care and Regulation of Magical Creatures. So he had sent Severus Snape, of all the damn people, to pick him up, and Severus had done so with no more sympathy than he would have had for a dog he was retrieving from a kennel. Which probably explained why he had been allowed to crawl into bed in such a state.

"Greasy git probably didn't even notice," Remus muttered, reaching for a bottle of shampoo. He scrubbed it vigorously into his hair scowling at the water.

But it hurt. It hurt to know that Dumbledore was so insensitive that he would send Severus Snape of all the people in the goddamned world. Why couldn't he have sent Molly? Actually, upon contemplation, Remus was glad it hadn't been Molly. He didn't think he could have withstood the Weasley matriarch's mothering. And he knew that Arthur had been at work, as had Bill and Charlie, and Tonks and Shacklebolt and everyone else… and Remus was glad that none of them had been there either. He almost wished no one had been there to see him like that.

_Three different people tried to get you to wash up, didn't they?_ came an annoying voice of reason within his head. He hadn't cared, though, as he'd told Severus quite pointedly. Severus had told him he'd care 'tomorrow'. Damn him for being right. Remus held his head under the water again and ran his fingers through his hair, dislodging the suds.

_Face it, Remus. You're just plain angry and looking for someone to focus your anger on._

He sighed as he picked up the shampoo again—he knew he wasn't likely to find anyone who would suit his purpose. He needed to just calm down and get over it. As he lathered up his hair again, he forced his thoughts away from who had seen him and what they'd seen. There was nothing but humiliation down that path, he knew, and facing the others was going to be hard enough without supplementing his discomfort with thoughts of what was already over with and done. He rinsed his hair again and picked up the shampoo once more, telling himself firmly that this was the last time he was washing his hair today—it was one thing to want it clean, something else entirely to try to wash away the disgrace and horror that lingered in his mind. Three shampoos would be more than enough to get his hair clean.

He left the suds in his hair as he stepped out of the shower for a moment. In his haste, he'd not even bothered to bring a flannel into the shower with him, but now he needed it. He opened the door a crack and peered into the hall; no one was around so he darted out to the linen closet, retrieved towels and two flannels and skittered back into the bathroom before anyone came upon him unwittingly. That would be a perfect end to this story—to permanently scar Hermione or Ginny with the vision of him in all his naked glory in the middle of the upstairs hallway.

He stepped back into the shower, draping one of the flannels over the door and holding the other in his hand. He reached for the bar of soap, worked it into a lather and let his thoughts drift again. No point in rehashing the humiliations, but that didn't mean he intended to ignore the situation. No, there were a number of things he wanted to bring up with Miss Lara Berkeley, and she had, after all, invited him to make suggestions. _Reasonable_ suggestions.

"Reasonable," he muttered to himself as he scrubbed at his chest with unnecessary vigor. "Is it _reasonable_ to expect to be treated like a human? Why don't you spend four fucking days in one of those cells and then let's talk about _reasonable_." He scrubbed at one leg, a malevolent smile darkening his face as he pictured the plump and friendly Lara Berkeley huddled in a corner with nothing but a blanket. As he scrubbed the bottom of his foot, he lost himself in the fantasy momentarily. Let _her_ try to find a comfortable way to lie down and sleep on the damn floor. Let _her_ sit there and wonder how long she'd been there, and if there was any end in sight. Let _her_ spend four days without human contact. With nothing but her own increasingly angry and devastated thoughts to keep her company.

_I'd take great pleasure in walking into her cell after three days and patting her on the head and telling her everything was fine_, he thought bitterly, then paused in his bathing, the flannel hanging limply in his hand at his shoulder. No, he wouldn't take pleasure in that, on second thought. He'd probably sit there and cry with her. No one should be treated like that. He finished bathing and then tossed the flannel to the floor and picked up the clean one and set about bathing a second time, his thoughts sinking towards self pity once more as he wondered if he would ever feel clean again.

After bathing three times, the water was beginning to run cold, so he stuck his head under the spray once more and rinsed a final time, shutting off the water just as it finally gave up all pretenses at warmth. He stepped out of the shower and jerked up one of the towels, which he applied to his body with a ferocity that belied the fatigue threatening to thwart his determination to finish cleaning up. He slammed open the cabinet and took out his shaving things, then swiped at the mirror with a corner of his towel as he began ridding himself of the almost week's growth of beard.

When he finally finished shaving, he looked around the bathroom and made a face, then exited into the hall, towel wrapped around his waist. He'd worry about cleaning later. He moved quickly to his room, then shut the door behind him as he rummaged for clothes. Once dressed, he stripped the sheets off his bed and tossed them into the corner, then hesitated, faltering between crawling back into bed and going downstairs to see if he could find something to eat. At length, hunger won out over fatigue, and he headed down to the kitchen.

The house was darker than he'd anticipated, and as he passed the drawing room, he poked his head into the door to look at the clock on the mantle. It was a little after nine. He'd been asleep for about eight hours, then. Odd, he normally slept longer than that after a transformation. But then, there was nothing normal about this month anyway, so why should he expect his sleep pattern not to be affected? He descended the stairs into the basement and paused at the kitchen door, listening. He could hear perhaps four distinct voices inside. As he opened the door, his nose was greeted by the savory aroma of stew, and his eyes shot wistfully towards the stove, hoping there was some left. He didn't have much time to ponder the possibility, however, before Molly pulled him into a firm embrace.

"Well," she said with a smile as she hugged him close. "Look who finally decided to join the land of the living." She tightened her arms around him until it was almost painful, but he was too grateful for her tenderness to protest. She rose onto her toes and kissed his cheek. "How are you feeling?" she asked, finally letting him go and ushering him to a chair.

"Tired," he replied truthfully. "And stiff."

"And hungry?" she suggested. He smiled sheepishly and she patted his shoulder. "I'll get you some stew. You just sit tight for a minute." She kissed his cheek again and he squeezed her hand.

"Glad to see you're up and around again, Remus," Arthur said, looking over the top of his paper. "We were beginning to be a bit worried about you."

"It's not even ten yet," Remus protested. "I usually sleep at least a full day."

"It's past nine on Thursday," Dumbledore replied softly, and Remus grimaced.

"I guess I was tired." He was beginning to get defensive. Why should he have to explain his need for sleep?

"Of course," Arthur replied amiably. "I heard about the condition of those cells. Scandalous. You'll be happy to know, though, that Lara Berkeley has been making a right nuisance of herself all day. The whole ministry is talking about it—she's demanding everything from plumbing to better menus, and she wants it all by the next full moon. I told her she was going to have to be a little more reasonable than that, but she wouldn't listen. Good woman, Lara Berkeley, if a little idealistic at times."

Idealistic? Plumbing and food was idealistic? Remus felt a bubble of anger rising in his gut again, but he forced it back down. _That's Arthur, for crying out loud,_ he chastised himself. _He's on your side._

"They should have had those things this month," Molly replied to Arthur's assertions. "When she starts demanding lace curtains, then you can say she's being unreasonable."

"I'm not implying that the requests are unreasonable," Arthur said defensively. "I'm saying that the time frame is. Do you know how long it takes to install toilets and sinks in a cell block? It's going to take more than magic to get that done in a month—it's going to take a miracle."

"Here you are, dear. This is a start until I finish heating up your stew." Molly placed a plate of rolls in front of him, then added a dish of butter and a jar of jam, then a cup of tea. "It'll be just a few more minutes on that stew."

"How was it, Remus?" Dumbledore asked, and Remus shot him a disbelieving look. How _was_ it? "Other than the obvious fact that you had to endure it at all, that is."

_And how am I supposed to answer that?_ Remus thought. It was a fucking _prison_ cell for four days and the only thing he'd done was have the audacity to get attacked by a werewolf when he was a child. "Let's say it wasn't an experience I want to repeat in any of my next three lifetimes," he muttered.

Dumbledore moved to sit beside him and placed an arm about his shoulders. "They didn't mistreat you?" he asked, and Remus scowled at the roll he was buttering.

_Well, I suppose that depends on your definition of mistreatment,_ he thought sourly. "Everyone was quite accommodating," he replied aloud, using Lara's own word. It was an excuse, of course—he was treated as humanely as he'd been able to lower himself to request.

"That's good at least," Arthur said, offering another smile. "I knew Lara when she started at the Ministry. She was in the Muggle-Worthy Excuses Department for three years, you know. She did an outstanding job about five years ago when there was a series of werewolf attacks on Muggles up in Devonshire, and she really caught everyone's eye then. And then she transferred to the Registry, and she's been overhauling that for about two years. She has just the kind of personality that makes her perfect for the job she's doing now. You can be sure, Remus, that she will do everything in her power to make things better."

Though marginally interested in just who this Lara Berkeley was, Remus was still too tired, too hungry and too irritated in general to be particularly concerned about it.

"Well, I for one would like to make Severus Snape see that place," Molly announced. "Then see what he has to say about refusing to make the Wolfsbane for you. Here you go. Do you want anything else?"

She'd placed a bowl of steaming stew in front of him, a spoon balanced on the plate beneath it. "No, thank you, Molly, that smells delicious."

"Severus did not refuse to make the potion," Dumbledore said quietly, and Molly's eyes widened. "He was not asked to do it."

"REMUS LUPIN!" Molly shrieked. "YOU MEAN YOU DID THIS VOLUNTARILY?"

"Hush, Molly, you're going to wake the whole house," Arthur muttered.

"I haven't asked for the potion in three years," Remus replied stiffly. "And the thought of begging him for it didn't particularly appeal to me."

"Well, you're going to beg for it this month if you have to, aren't you?" she asked pointedly, her hands on her hips.

Remus grimaced and shoved a spoonful of stew into his mouth. He was rather hoping to not have to think about begging Severus for anything for at least another week.

"If you're going to ask him, you should really be about it," Dumbledore said conversationally, as though he didn't realize he was answering Remus' thoughts.

"I'll ask him next time I see him," Remus muttered, his head lowered over his bowl. "Of course, given how often he comes around here, that might be a few years. Unless you want to tell me where he is?" He looked at Dumbledore now, who shook his head.

"I'm afraid I gave him my word that I would not tell anyone where he was. It was one of the conditions of his not leaving again."

"Wonderful," Remus muttered.

"I will be more than happy to convey your request to him, if you like, though."

"No," Remus replied, then at the look of horror on Molly's face, amended, "not yet. I'd rather ask him myself. Though if it comes to it, I might ask you to intervene this time."

"You _might_?" Molly asked. "Remus, you don't want to go through this again next month, do you?"

"Of course not!" Remus snapped. He finished his stew in silence, and Molly stood.

"Do you want some more stew?" she asked, and he came very close to telling her no out of pure spite. He was still famished, however.

"Please."

She bustled back to the stove with his bowl and he lowered his head into his hand, closing his eyes. Dumbledore gave his shoulders a brief squeeze and for a moment, Remus was tempted to lean against the older wizard. Only for a moment, though. He still remembered far too vividly that Dumbledore had not seen fit to come to the Ministry for him. He suddenly wished he were anywhere but in this kitchen surrounded by people who meant well enough but…

_But what?_ he asked himself. But nothing. They were his friends, and he knew they cared about him. He was an adult and he could accept that at times Dumbledore had more important things to do than see to his welfare—if it came to it, the Headmaster would be there defending him and supporting him, but there was no reason to be so upset over the fact that he hadn't been at the Ministry on Wednesday morning.

Molly placed another bowl of stew in front of him.

"Thank you," he murmured.

"Of course," she replied, kissing his cheek again. He smiled a bit at her, and she hugged him once again. "Are you all right, Remus?" she asked, sinking into the empty chair beside him.

"I'm tired," he replied. "And weak and hungry and all the things I always am after a full moon."

She placed her hand on his cheek, turning his face to hers. "There's something more," she said quietly. "Something about your eyes. You have the same look you had when Sirius died."

He ducked away from her. "I'm fine, Molly," he insisted, picking up his spoon again.

Sirius would have understood without Remus having to explain it to him. So would James. And so would Peter, come to think of it, though Remus preferred not to think about Peter Pettigrew unless he had to. They'd been the only ones who'd ever seen him for who he was, even when he wasn't himself. He did wish Sirius were here.

"Well," Dumbledore said, standing. "I need to get back to Hogwarts. Staff meeting at nine tomorrow, you know, and I need to do some more preparation for it."

"Good night, Albus," Molly said, standing as well. She gave Dumbledore a hug, and Arthur stood as well, extending a hand.

"Good night, Molly, Arthur. Good night, Remus." Dumbledore placed a hand on his shoulder again, and Remus turned, offering his hand.

"Give everyone my best," he said. "And tell Minerva… hang on. Staff meeting tomorrow? Will Severus be there?"

"He usually is," Dumbledore answered, his eyes twinkling. "He is part of the staff, you know. Why don't you drop by and give Minerva your message yourself. The meeting usually lasts an hour and a half or so." He winked, and Remus grinned.

"Thank you," he said quietly.

Dumbledore patted his shoulder. "Good night, my boy." He disappeared into the fireplace, and Remus finished his stew in silence, turning over what he needed to say to get Severus to agree to making the potion again.

A little after ten the next morning, Remus was pacing outside the staff room at Hogwarts, rehearsing in his mind. _I've come to ask you a favor, Severus. I know we've had our differences, but I would appreciate it if you would brew the Wolfsbane for me again this month. If you like, I'm willing to discuss ways to repay you, though you know my financial situation and…_ And it was always at that point that Remus' thoughts trailed off. Severus knew his financial situation all right, and would know that Remus was essentially asking for charity. He would be fooling no one—there was nothing he could offer in payment. He might be able to repay the cost of a month's supply of the potion, but it would take him two months to do it, by which point he'd have more debt accumulated.

_Bloody git. If you hadn't announced to the world that I'm a werewolf, I might still have this job and I'd be able to pay you for your services,_ he thought bitterly. Bitter thoughts did him no good though.

He was so absorbed in his rehearsal that he nearly missed the door opening and Snape emerging from the room. He was halfway down the corridor before Remus spurred himself to action.

"Severus!"

Severus turned abruptly and looked at him expectantly. "What are you doing here?" 

This was already going badly. Remus summoned his courage and dismissed the vague hope he'd been clinging to that Severus would be open to making amends to their friendship, which would be preferable to groveling. "I'd like a word, if you don't mind. Privately."

Severus glanced back at the staff room, then pointed down the corridor with his wand. "I presume you know the way to my office?"

"Of course."

It was a quiet journey to the dungeons. Awkwardly silent. Severus exuded the same cold detachment that he always did, and it only made it increasingly obvious to Remus that he was going to have a struggle ahead. He went back to his rehearsal. _I've come to ask you a favor, Severus…_

Once they reached the dungeons, Severus gestured towards a chair and dropped the folder he'd been making notes in. "Are you going to be here long? I can have the house elves bring up tea or… something."

"No," Remus replied tightly, the hesitation not escaping his attention. Something a little less civilized than tea perhaps? A bowl of water perhaps? "I don't expect to be here long at all."

Severus nodded and settled into his chair on the other side of the desk. "What did you want to discuss?" he asked, sounding disinterested. Which Remus supposed was better than sounding irritated.

Remus took a deep breath. "The Wolfsbane Potion," he replied.

"Now?" Severus asked, raising an eyebrow.

"I've come to ask you to brew it for me again. I'll pay you." _You idiot, that wasn't part of the script._

"You can't afford my fees."

Remus almost wished he was in his wolf form so he could rip Severus' throat out. That was bloody uncalled for. He kept his temper, though and took a deep breath, making an effort to recover lost ground. "I know I haven't the money, and I know you know that, but I'll find a way…"

"Stop," Severus held up a hand. "I'll brew the potion. Don't insult me by saying you will find a way to repay me. I already told you that you can't afford my fees."

"Please, Severus, I… excuse me?"

A look of something akin to amusement crossed Severus' face as he picked up a quill. "I presume you don't need it for a couple of weeks. Around the…" he paused, looking at a calendar. "The next full moon is the eighteenth, so the eleventh or so?" Remus nodded slowly, and Severus scrawled something on his calendar. "The regular doses?" he asked.

"Yes, please," Remus said quietly, and Severus nodded, putting his quill down again.

"Don't look so shocked, Lupin. You know I brew potions on request. And that I do _not_ sell my services cheaply."

Remus could barely believe his luck. He'd come expecting a battle, and he hadn't even had to beg. Well, not exactly. He wondered if he would have been able to just ask for it and if Severus would have agreed.

"Thank you," Remus whispered, and Severus nodded impatiently.

"Not at all. Was there anything else?"

"Er… no." Remus stood, and Severus stood as well. For a moment, Remus faltered, torn between leaving while he had the chance and staying to try and make amends. His pride, or perhaps sense of decency, prevented him from truly considering staying. After all, he was the one who'd told Severus that true friendship didn't have a price on it; and after this request, it would look precisely like he was attempting to pay for the potion with the dubious gift of friendship. Besides, he wasn't sure how Severus would respond, and he hadn't the stomach for Snape's brand of rejection today

"You may pick it up on the tenth, any time after five," Severus told him, walking towards the door. Remus hesitated, then nodded.

"Thank you," he said again, more briskly this time, then hurried from Severus' office before any more words passed between them.


	5. Chapter 5: Returning

**Chapter 5: Returning**

_A/N: This chapter falls between chapters 31 and 32 in For Tomorrow We May Die. _

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Monday, 26 August 

"Do you have any idea how much longer it's going to be?" It was already a quarter past ten and his appointment had been scheduled for nine; Remus was beginning to run short on patience.

"I really don't," the receptionist replied, shaking her head. "I'm sorry. It's been a busy morning and Lara is running a bit behind."

"Can you look at your appointments and tell who's in there now, and when he was supposed to have seen her?""

"Really, Remus, she's working as quickly as she can. Just have a seat and I'll call you as soon as she's ready to see you." That, obviously, was the end of the conversation. The receptionist slid her window shut and Remus had little choice other than to turn back into the waiting room and settle into one of the chairs again. He peered at his watch again and sighed.

"Our appointment was at eight, and my Edward just went back," came a soft voice beside him. He opened his eyes and looked at the woman who'd spoken. His first impression of her was that she looked frail and exhausted, her eyes sunken and rimmed with dark circles, her face ashen and peaked. She was woefully thin, and there were permanent worry lines around her mouth and between her eyes. It took him a moment to get past how horribly tired she looked and to realize that her hair was dark brown, though frosted with silver, and her eyes were blue.

"Thank you," he muttered, frowning slightly. Edward was the name of the seven-year-old boy he'd heard Lara talking to the night they were all penned up.

She nodded, carefully shifting a sleeping child to a more comfortable position. As she moved, she knocked her handbag to the floor, and a book fell out of it.

"No, I'll get it for you," Remus offered, holding up a hand as she moved to pick up her belongings. He crouched and picked up the handbag and book and placed them both on the chair beside her. "You look like you have your hands full, and he looks entirely too comfortable to be disturbed."

She smiled a bit. "Thank you," she said quietly.

"Not at all," he responded. Remus watched for a moment as she cradled the child in her arms, and he felt a momentary pang of longing. It had been far too long since he'd had anyone to hold, or to hold him, and though he was usually content enough, the last week had left him wishing desperately for human contact. He would have been content to be either the child or the one holding the child at that moment.

"How did Edward fare last week?" Remus asked finally, and a hollow look crossed the woman's eyes.

"I think he fared better than I did," she murmured, hugging the other child more tightly. "He slept for two days, and by the weekend he was playing as though nothing had happened. Maybe… maybe it wasn't so bad as I thought it looked?"

She sounded so hopeful that he was almost tempted to reassure her that it hadn't been that bad at all. But it had been. And it was worrisome that a child did not seem affected by it. Remus looked away and sighed quietly. "Perhaps he doesn't want you worrying about him," Remus suggested softly.

From the corner of his eye, he could see the woman nodding. "He's very much like his father was in that sense," she whispered. "He never wanted me to worry either."

"I don't think we ever want those around us to worry."

"I know," she replied. "But I wish I'd had a bit more of an idea what all I needed to be worried about. It was something of a shock when he died and… I'm sorry. I wasn't intending to start telling you my life story. I'm just worried about my Edward."

Remus smiled. "It's quite all right," he assured her. "How long has your husband been gone?"

"Three years," she murmured. She took a deep breath. "He died trying to save Edward."

Remus found a sudden interest in his feet. "I'm sorry," he said softly.

She shrugged a bit. "I didn't even know what bills we had to pay," she said with a slight laugh. "All I'd ever done was the shopping, and he would just hand me some money and I'd buy what we needed. It never occurred to me that there was so much involved in…"

"Mrs. Murphy?"

Lara's voice interrupted the story and the frail woman looked up. "Yes?"

"Can you come back with me please? I'm having a bit of a hard time with Edward."

The woman sighed quietly. "Of course," she said, then turned to Remus again. "I'm sorry to unload my worries on you."

"That's quite all right," Remus replied, standing. "I'll listen again the next time you want to talk."

She offered a weak smile, then followed Lara through the doors, and Remus was left to ponder the pattern in the carpet again and to wish he'd remembered to bring along a book. The only reading material the Ministry provided was bound copies of the Werewolf Code of Conduct, and he was _tired_ of reading that particular document.

Minutes ticked by, and Remus looked around the room, studying the small groups of people. There was another man roughly his own age in one corner, staring listlessly at the wall. Another man, this one substantially younger, sat several chairs down. A pretty young woman with flame-red hair was reading a magazine and looking at her watch every so often. There were three young women in another corner, all talking softly, their eyes on five children who were playing in the floor at their feet. It was impossible to tell who was a werewolf and who was not, and after another ten minutes of waiting, Remus set to trying to amuse himself by speculating.

The young women with the children were not, he suspected, and he found himself hoping that none of the children were. He had a sinking suspicion, however, that at least one of those youngsters was, indeed. The woman reading the magazine was not; he was sure of that. She looked too settled and well-adjusted. The man his own age probably was, and the younger man as well.

One of the doors opened and an elderly man came out. The red-haired woman dropped her magazine into her handbag and met the elderly man halfway across the room, spoke softly with a gray-haired and bespectacled man, then led the elderly man out. Her father, perhaps.

"Nicholas?" The middle-aged man who had led out the elderly man was peering over the top of his glasses at the youth. They disappeared behind the door, and a few minutes later, a brisk-looking woman with black hair and a stern expression led a young woman into the waiting room. The man who had been staring listlessly at the wall stood and reached for her hand, though neither of them looked at each other. Slowly, those who had been in the waiting room were either called back or left when someone else was brought back out until the only ones left were one of the young mothers and Remus.

The outer door opened again and another young woman walked in, leading another elderly man whom she guided to a chair before approaching the receptionist's window. She spoke in a low voice for a minute, but soon her voice was raised until Remus couldn't help overhear.

"What do you mean it will be a while? How long is a while? Our appointment is at eleven, and I don't have all day for this."

"I'm terribly sorry, ma'am, but they're running a bit behind today. If you'll just take a seat, they'll be with you as soon as…"

"How long is a while?"

"Two hours at least," Remus replied, even though he wasn't part of the conversation. The receptionist shot him a dirty look, but he ignored it.

"_Two hours_?" the woman repeated, then glared at the receptionist again. "That's outrageous!"

"They're doing the best they can, ma'am. Now, please, just take a seat and they'll call you as soon as they're ready for you." The window slammed shut again, and the woman took a deep breath.

"This is the most ridiculous… No, Dad, you stay there. I'll go find you some tea or something." The man had been in the process of rising but she pressed him firmly back into his chair and disappeared again. Remus watched as the old man stared forlornly at the wall, not moving. After a bit, the woman came back in again and pressed a cup into her father's hands. "Drink that," she told him firmly, then looked around and picked up a copy of the Code of Conduct. She flipped through it for a moment, her lips pursed, then dropped it again. "Is that thick thing _really_ the Werewolf Code of Conduct?" she asked Remus, coming to sit across from him.

"Yes," he replied, watching her father.

"I'm Cynthia," she said, offering a hand, which he took after a moment. "Cynthia Reynolds."

"Remus Lupin," he replied, a bit bemused.

"Are you a werewolf?" she asked bluntly, and he nodded. "Mind if I sit?"

"Be my guest," he replied, gesturing to the chairs. She chose the one to his left and turned to face him.

"I just found out that my grandfather is a werewolf, and has been for some time. He apparently didn't think it worth mentioning to anyone. What are we going to expect?" she asked.

Remus raised an eyebrow. "I really have no idea what to expect given the circumstances," he replied after a moment. "I was a very young child when I went through the registry process, and I don't honestly remember much about it. I doubt it will be pleasant, but…" he trailed off a bit. "How long has he been…?"

"I don't know," she replied, looking at him with a contemplative frown on her face. "My uncle found him chained in the basement of his house last week and after three hours of prodding he admitted that he'd been containing himself like that to keep from being a danger to anyone."

Remus cringed inwardly.

"He said he was afraid they'd kill him if they found out he was a werewolf."

"Who?"

"I don't know. He's barely lucid half the time anyway. We've all been trying to figure out how long he's been doing this, but it's hard, you know? No one pays much attention to when the moon is full, so trying to work out the last time we saw him during a full moon is almost impossible."

"You might try checking holidays," Remus suggested. "You're more likely to remember a Christmas full moon than a full moon in the middle of July."

Cynthia made a note in the book she was carrying. "We'll try that, thank you," she said. "What else can you tell me?"

Remus picked up the Code of Conduct lying on the table nearest him. "Read this," he suggested. "Carefully. Cover to cover, and then read it again. Depending on what the dynamic of the Ministry is, the attitude towards werewolves ranges from pity to persecution and all points between. And be prepared for inhuman treatment."

"Inhuman," she repeated.

"Quite at times."

"Wonderful. They aren't really going to kill him, are they?"

"Only if he bites someone and it can be proven he did it. Otherwise, he falls under most of the same laws and governing principles as any other wizard."

"Remus Lupin?" An unfamiliar voice called, and Remus looked up. A woman with brown hair pulled back from her face was standing at the door, looking around the room expectantly.

"I have to go," Remus told Cynthia while scribbling frantically at a piece of parchment he'd produced from his briefcase. "If you have any other questions or if you need anything, here's how to get in touch with me. Good luck." He stood and picked up his briefcase and followed the woman who had called him into an office two doors further down the hall than Lara's office was.

As she ushered him inside, he looked around; it was tidier than Lara's office, and less cramped, though the layout was largely the same—bookshelves along one wall, desk with a chair behind it and three arrayed in front, a file cabinet in the corner and a scale occupying the back of the room.

"Have a seat," the woman said, picking up a folder and skimming through it. "I'm Deborah Eaton, and…" she trailed off, frowning a bit. She looked at him, then at the folder again. "And if you're fifteen years old, I'll eat my hat." She shut the folder and peered at it, then sighed. "Wrong folder. Give me just a minute. I don't suppose you know your case number off hand, do you?"

"33795009," he replied, almost without thinking.

Deborah was nodding, scribbling the number as he recited it. "I'll be right back." She disappeared, giving him a minute to look around the office, but there was nothing to look at. It was very sparse. True to her word, she returned only a moment later, and settled behind the desk again. "Sorry about that," she said. "Now, as I was saying, I'm Deborah, and I'm just stepping in to help Lara today. She got caught up in an unexpected meeting and… well, I'm sure you can see that she's behind today. Let's see…" She was flipping through the folder now, and paused. "I guess we'll need to get your weight and… no. You've already done that, haven't you?"

She shoved a hand through her hair and squinted at the parchment. "We don't seem to have an address in file for you," she said finally. "Can we correct that oversight?"

Remus sighed quietly. "I don't have a permanent address," he told her, slowly and distinctly. "I can be reached through Albus Dumbledore at Hogwarts."

Deborah frowned at him, then turned around, reaching for a folder. "I'm going to give you some information to look over," she said, selecting several leaflets and placing them on the desk. "The Ministry maintains several public housing units, and three of them are particularly suited for the needs of werewolves. They provide…"

"Complimentary transportation and reminders about the full moon," Remus finished for her. "Lara already told me, and I told her that I do not need the Ministry's charity."

Deborah raised an eyebrow. "All right," she said. "Then we won't discuss the public housing units. How are you feeling after last week's transformation, Remus?"

"Tired," he replied truthfully. "And irritated, though a good part of that might have to do with the two hour wait this morning. If I were two hours late for one of these meetings, I doubt you would all be expected to take it in stride."

"Lara did make a note in here that you are prone to belligerence," Deborah commented softly, tapping her quill against the page she was studying.

"If belligerence means a dogged insistence on being treated with the same respect anyone else would expect, then yes, I suppose I am belligerent."

"I am very sorry about the wait this morning, Remus, but we have been quite busy and…"

"And it's just as well that I don't have a job, given that this is precisely the kind of nonsense that wouldn't go over well with employers. Does it occur to you that perhaps there are others who are busy as well?"

Deborah slammed the folder shut and folded her hands atop it. "What do you want me to say?" she asked.

"How about an explanation that doesn't imply that your time is more important than mine?" he suggested.

"Fine. You want an explanation? Do you know how many werewolves there are in the United Kingdom?"

"No," he replied, "and I don't see how that's important."

"Two hundred thirty eight," she answered promptly. "That's _registered_ werewolves. Do you know how many bites were reported this past month alone?"

"No."

"Forty seven," she told him. "Do you know how many case workers there are in the Ministry?"

"No."

"Four. Do you know how many times we are supposed to meet with every single werewolf every single month?"

He was beginning to get the idea. "Twice?" he guessed.

"Well, that's what we're attempting. Minister Davis wants four time a month. Weekly appointments. And he doesn't see why we can't be expected to see eight per day."

Remus looked at her levelly. "So far, I've had two of these appointments," he said bluntly. "Both lasted less than an hour. Why is eight a day so unreasonable?"

"It wouldn't be if all of them lasted an hour," she replied. "It takes close to three hours to register a new werewolf, though, and only about an hour of that can be done without him present."

Remus felt a measure of his anger being directed away from Deborah and Lara and towards Davis for expecting what appeared to be the impossible. "Then Lara has been registering new werewolves," he said. "You know, it would have been easier to accept had this explanation been offered earlier. And I know I'm not the only one who would have appreciated being told to expect a two hour delay."

"We register new werewolves between eleven and one," Deborah replied. "Lara has been otherwise occupied."

Remus sighed heavily. "Forget it," he muttered. "Why am I here this time?"

"Just a few questions here. First and foremost, we like to have our werewolves thinking ahead about the next full moon, so I'm going to ask you to consider your options. I see that this past month you gave yourself over for protective custody. That was a wise move, Remus. Are you planning to do that again this month?"

"No," he answered succinctly. "I will be taking the Wolfsbane this month."

"Splendid!" Deborah announced, reaching for another folder. "And who is your brewer?"

For a moment, Remus hesitated. How was Severus going to react to his giving the Ministry his name?

"Why do you need to know?"

"Because, Remus, we must make sure that it is a qualified brewer. There are many unscrupulous wizards and witches who would take advantage of the unsuspecting werewolf and try to sell an inferior and ineffective product."

"And if I choose not to tell you?"

Deborah sighed. "If you do not tell me, I'm afraid I won't be able to verify that you are on a regular regimen of the potion, which means that you will be listed as non-compliant for the month of September unless you turn yourself into protective custody."

"Non-compliant?" he asked. "I thought that was voluntary?"

"Oh, it is," she assured him. "It's entirely voluntary. However, we do keep record, of course, and werewolves with a history of non-compliance are certainly under additional scrutiny, particularly if there are bites reported during a full moon period."

He stared at her blankly. "So you're telling me that if I do not turn myself in for protective custody every month that I am liable to be accused for any _bites_ that take place?"

"Well, let's just say you'd be under more meticulous scrutiny."

"I don't believe this. Then what good does it do to take the potion?"

"Oh, no, Remus, if you are on a regimen of Wolfsbane, then you certainly escape the scrutiny. So you see? There is a benefit to telling me who your brewer is so we can check his or her credentials."

"And when I give you his name, what will you do with it?"

"Well, if he's already on our list of approved brewers, then that is that. If he isn't, we'll do a bit of digging into his qualifications, and if they prove satisfactory, we'll approach him to see if he would be interested in contract work for the Ministry. Regardless, we'll get him registered on our approved list. He won't be harassed, if that's what you're concerned about."

"I'll speak with him about it this evening and…"

"Remus, it takes time to get even an accomplished Potions Master approved for the brewing of the Wolfsbane. If you intend this to be your method of managing the lycanthropy this month, then we need to get the paperwork started immediately. After all, you'll need to begin taking it two weeks from tomorrow, and a week of that time will be taken up with the owl post, I'm sure. Now, just give me his name so I can get everything started."

Remus massaged the bridge of his nose. He had a sinking suspicion that Severus would not be pleased if he gave his name.

"Come on, Remus. If he's a reputable brewer, he'll have no objections, will he?"

That certainly sounded reasonable enough, but reasonable didn't always apply to this particular Potions Master. Remus sighed quietly, though, and resigned himself to his fate. "Severus Snape," he said finally.

"Snape… That name sounds familiar. Maybe he's already one of our approved brewers. Is he a reputable Potioner, do you know?"

"He's a Master," Remus replied.

"Oh, that does bode well then. All the Potions Masters in the UK were sent the paperwork already. Let me just go check our records. In the mean time, I'm going to give you this to look over. It's just a bit of information about the Wolfsbane potion. I'll be right back." She stepped briskly out of the office, leaving the door partially ajar, and Remus peered at the page she'd left him. It turned out to be nothing he didn't already know.

A few moments later, Deborah reemerged into the office, shaking her head. "I'm afraid that Master Snape is not an approved brewer. I made a list of the approved brewers, though, so perhaps you'd like to contact one of them and…"

"What do you mean he isn't approved?" Remus asked testily. "He is an accomplished Potions Master and…"

"And he very adamantly declined our offer to register him as an approved brewer of the potion. In fact, he has repeatedly declined Ministry offers to approve him for the brewing of a number of substances."

"I don't believe this."

"Now, there's an Albert Vibbard here, and he's quite accomplished. Or here's a Norman Sommersby. Or…"

"Severus Snape is providing the potion for me," Remus said bluntly. "He has already agreed to it, and we have already made all the arrangements."

"Hmm," Deborah said, frowning a bit. "Then perhaps you can convince him to register himself as an approved brewer. I'm going to go ahead and give you the paperwork for it, Remus, and you take this to him and have him fill it out—but not sign it! He'll need to come in and sign in front of witnesses." She handed him a thick folder, and Remus closed his eyes, already imagining what Severus' reaction was going to be. He could very clearly see the parchments in it being upended into the lake. It was one thing for Severus to agree to brew the potion, or to agree to restore a bit of the mutual understanding they had. It was another thing entirely to expect him to register himself with the Ministry.

"I'm also giving you this list of brewers in case Master Snape refuses. You'll want to contact them as soon as possible to make arrangements, though, because the potion takes a week to brew."

Remus knew it did not take a week to brew, but he didn't contradict her.

"And I want you to think about the public housing units. Now, I'm going to go ahead and schedule you an appointment for Monday, the ninth of September at two in the afternoon, and that appointment will be with Lara," she continued, writing the appointment information on a slip of parchment. "And really, Remus, if Master Snape doesn't sign the agreement, seek out one of these others. They're all approved, and the Ministry has capped the price on the potion, so it won't be over-priced. And if Master Snape won't agree to the registry, you just request your fee back from him, and if he refuses, you report it to Lara and she will see to it."

Remus shook his head, exhaling a sharp snort of laughter. Trying to talk to these people was like beating his head against a brick wall.

"Thank you, Deborah," he said finally.

"You have a lovely afternoon, Remus," she said brightly, ushering him out of the office and down the corridor. "And we'll see you back again in two weeks."

"I'm sure I'm looking forward to it," he muttered as he stalked out into the reception room and exited the department.

* * *

For the second time in four days, Remus found himself standing in the dungeons at Hogwarts, dread welling inside him as he imagined how Severus would react to this latest request. 

"Just knock on the door and ask him," he told himself firmly. "The last one didn't go as badly as you'd thought it would." And it was really just an extension of that same request, after all. If only Severus hadn't already refused the request once, the situation might seem a little less hopeless.

After a few more minutes of staring at the door, Remus finally knocked. The door swung open and Severus looked up from his desk. "Remus," he said, his voice carrying a note of surprise. "I wasn't expecting you."

"I wasn't expecting to be here," Remus replied. "Have a minute?"

"Not really, but if you won't be offended if I keep working on this list, I can do two things at once."

"Fair enough," Remus replied, but his mind was screaming at him. This was a bad start.

"Have a seat," Severus said, gesturing at the chairs in front of his desk, plying quill to parchment again.

"I know you're busy, so I'll get to the point," Remus said as he seated himself. "I just returned from the Ministry and they won't be satisfied with my taking the Wolfsbane unless you're an approved brewer and apparently you refused to register as a brewer so I'm asking you to reconsider." His words all came out in a jumbled rush, and Severus paused in his writing for a moment.

"Absolutely not," he replied.

"Severus, please. If I don't take the Wolfsbane, I have to…"

"I told you I'd brew the potion for you. Isn't that enough?" He made a few frantic scribbles on the parchment, his lips pursed and his brow creased with a frown.

"It would be more than enough for me, but the Ministry…"

"The Ministry can shove off," Severus said succinctly. "I am not a brewer for the Minister of Magic and I will not be a brewer for the Ministry of Magic."

"I'm not asking you to. I'm just asking you to register with them so they'll put your name on their damned list so…"

"Do you know what you're asking of me, Remus?" Severus asked softly, putting his quill down.

_A little cooperation?_ Remus thought snidely, but shook his head. "No, I didn't read the documentation. I assumed it was private."

"Well, I _did_ read the documentation when they sent it to me the first time," Severus replied, folding his hands atop the parchment. "They want me to donate a hundred and fifty doses of the potion at least once every three months. They also want me to sign an agreement stating that werewolves can contact me to brew that crap, and they dictate how much I can charge for it, and that's the part I object to. That they also wanted to run a positively insulting check on my credentials was irritating enough to prompt my response to them, but then they had the audacity to suggest that it was my civic responsibility to sign those documents. I'm not signing them, Remus. I simply refuse. I'll brew the potion for you, and if they want six samples of it to test my competency, I suppose I can provide that, and if anyone were to ask nicely, I'd probably donate a couple of cauldrons of it a month if they'd reimburse me the cost of the ingredients, but I will be _damned_ if I'm going to be the Ministry's lap dog, and I am _not_ going to let them dictate how much my time and expertise are worth."

Remus shoved his hand through his hair and closed his eyes. He couldn't say he really blamed Severus, but he had hoped this would go more favorably.

"Besides, why do they need to _approve_ a list of brewers?" Severus asked, picking up his quill again.

"Some bullshit line about preventing fraud. Unscrupulous brewers charging exorbitant prices for inferior potions or something to that effect."

Severus sneered at his parchment. "I might be offended by that if I didn't know how often it happens," he muttered. "But I have a certificate on that wall over there that Millicent Bagnold signed stating that if I charge exorbitant fees at least it is for superior products, and that should bloody well be good enough for Marius Davis."

"Is the Ministry's price cap… is it insultingly low?"

Severus glanced up at him and shrugged. "I can't say I know what other Potions Masters charge for their time and effort. I don't want to be bothered with contract brewing, so I charge outrageous fees to discourage people from asking." He jabbed his quill into the inkpot again. "The potions I brew around here are voluntary. How much are the others charging?"

"Twenty galleons for a month's supply."

"The ingredients are probably worth three," Severus informed him. "No, I don't think it's insultingly low. It's a complex potion, but not terribly time consuming." Quill scratched at parchment for a moment, then Severus paused in his writing and looked up. "What happens if I'm not an 'approved' brewer?"

Remus avoided his eyes. "The Ministry doesn't acknowledge that I took the potion, and I'm considered 'non-compliant' for the month."

"And what does that mean?"

"I'm automatically a suspect in any bite. Unless, of course, I turn myself in to protective custody again." He hadn't considered the possibility that he would be spending any more time in one of those cells, but he was slowly beginning to accept that it was inevitable.

Severus sighed softly and extended a hand. "Let me see those documents," he muttered. Remus placed the folder in his hand, scarcely daring to believe that Severus was even considering it. Severus spread the folder on his desk and looked at the first page, then the second and third. After the fourth, he quit reading and thumbed through the pages, then scowled. "Forty-seven pages," he muttered. "And it looks like thirty of them require me to fill something out."

"I'm not even asking anymore, Severus. I didn't realize what all it entailed."

"I'm thinking about it," Severus answered. "And I want you to know that I must either be out of my mind or consider you a very good friend to even be thinking about it. Is there no other alternative?"

Remus shook his head. "I either take the potion or turn myself in. Non-compliance isn't really an option."

Severus rubbed his temples and looked at the first page again. "There are others who are approved and who will brew it, though, correct?"

Remus looked away. "I can't afford it," he said quietly. "You know that."

"I can," Severus said. "I'll pay for it."

"Severus, I can't ask you to…"

"You aren't asking. I'm offering. Really, Remus, I'd rather pay the twenty galleons a month than sign these papers."

Remus stood and folded his arms across his chest. Twenty galleons was almost a fourth of what he'd made in a month when he was teaching, and he had to admit that it dug at his pride to know that Severus could toss aside that sum so casually. "But wouldn't you rather be making the twenty galleons than paying it?" he asked. "And it isn't as though there are many werewolves who could afford that anyway."

There was a sound of wood scraping against stone, and a moment later Remus felt a hand on his shoulder.

"Let me pay for your potion this month," Severus said quietly. "And that buys me a month to think about it."

"I don't want you buying that potion for me," Remus whispered. Severus squeezed his shoulder lightly.

"Then let me lend you the money for it. You can pay me back, with interest if you like. Just give me a month to think it over and to look into all the details."

"I don't want your money!"

"For fucks' sake, Remus! It's no more than I'd spend on a bottle of cognac!"

"Then save your money and buy an extra bottle!" Remus shot back.

Severus stalked back to his desk. "What, precisely, is the difference between asking me to brew the potion for you and letting me procure it in another manner?"

"Because if you brew it, you're only spending three galleons and if you buy it you're spending twenty!"

"I don't care about the money," Severus muttered, jerking the cap off his ink bottle again.

"I care," Remus replied. "I don't want to be beholden to you for that kind of…"

"Goddamn it, Remus, will you stop with that?" Severus hurled his teacup against the door, and it shattered in a spray of hot liquid and porcelain. The tea dripped down the wall and puddled on the floor, and Remus stared at it for a moment, watching the tawny liquid fill a crack in the stone. _Fool_, he cursed himself. _What did you expect? That you'd walk in here and he'd assure you that he'd be more than happy to do something he's already made clear he doesn't want to do?_

Remus looked at the broken cup for a minute, then took out his wand and pointed it at the mess. "_Reparo,_" he murmured softly, and the cup knitted itself back together. He placed it on Severus' desk. "I'm sorry I asked," he said stiffly, walking towards the door again.

"Get back in here," Severus ordered.

"Why?"

"We haven't settled this matter. I need to know what you intend to do."

"I'm going to turn myself into protective custody again, Severus, because I'm not stupid enough to leave myself open to accusations if there are bites! So don't bother making the potion."

"But I thought the transformation was easier…"

"It is!" Remus snapped. "But I also retain my own mind, and at least the transformation is twelve hours I don't have to be aware of… Forget it. Just don't make the damn potion."

Severus leaned back in his chair and folded his arms across his chest. "Why won't you let me buy it for you?" he asked. "It would make this so much easier."

"Because I don't want you spending that kind of money on this! It's bad enough that I have to come here and beg you to brew it."

"I have never made you beg me for it," Severus said quietly.

"Then ask for it."

Severus pinched the bridge of his nose, shaking his head slightly. "Listen to me you idiot," he said very distinctly. "I am not in the business of reading tea leaves to determine who wants what potion from me. If you want it, tell me and I will brew it. It isn't a matter of pride, it's a matter of consideration."

"You know that I need it every month," Remus replied defensively.

"And you just told me not to brew it this month. Make up your damn mind."

Remus folded his arms and stared at the floor. "I want you to sign those damn papers so that it will make a difference if I take the potion," he said quietly. "But if you don't want to, that's fine. I'll do what I have to do, regardless."

Severus stood and moved around the desk, leaning against it, his arms folded as well. "I told you I will look over those papers, but I don't want to rush headlong into signing anything from the Ministry until I have read it twice at least. And then I want Dumbledore to read it, and then I want Minerva to read it, just to make sure I haven't missed anything, and then I want to talk to a few other brewers and find out what _they_ think about it. And I can't do that kind of research in two weeks, Remus. I'm not agreeing to anything with the Ministry of Magic unless I know what I'm agreeing to."

"Fine," Remus said, not quite keeping the bitterness from his voice. He understood Severus' reticence, but it still wasn't what he wanted to hear. "If you decide to sign the agreement, let me know and I'll come and _humbly_ ask you to mix the potion."

"In the mean time," Severus continued as though Remus hadn't spoken, "I'd like to offer to purchase the potion for you from another reputable brewer. If you'll give me the list, I'll approach someone for you, and I'll handle the transaction. I will hand deliver the bottles to you if you like. Call it a professional courtesy, call it an attempt to make up for the inconvenience I'm causing you. Call it a friend who doesn't want to see you in that cell again. I want you to have the potion this month, and I want you to have it from someone whom the Ministry recognizes as an approved supplier or whatever it is that they're calling it."

Remus looked away. "You don't understand."

"Then explain it to me."

"I don't want the charity, Severus. I don't want you—or anyone else—to give me handouts. It's already a trick to convince myself that I'm not living off the benevolence of Albus Dumbledore. I don't want my lycanthropy to be managed off the benevolence of Severus Snape."

"You needn't worry about that, then, because I'm not a benevolent man," Severus replied. Remus just scowled in return. "Besides, what's the difference between my brewing the potion and my procuring it from someone else? I still don't see that distinction."

Remus sighed, exasperated. "Because when I asked you to brew it for me I was asking a favor from a friend," he spat.

For a moment, Severus was quiet, then he asked, "And why do you think I'm offering to purchase the potion for you?"

Remus didn't reply.

"I'm asking you for a favor now," Severus continued. "I'm asking you for a month, two at the most, to research what I'm going to be getting myself into. I don't like surprises, particularly ones delivered by Ministry owls." He unfolded his arms and braced his hands against the edge of his desk. "And if you're adamant about this, I'll fill out the paperwork now, and I'll deliver it to the Ministry tomorrow, because I have no desire to know that you're sitting in a cell somewhere in the Ministry because I refused to take the steps to become an approved brewer. I'm _asking_ you to allow me to buy myself some time to research the options."

Remus knew that Severus had a valid point, but it was difficult to look him in the eye and accept what he was being offered. "Do you have any idea what it's like to have to stand here and agree to this?"

"No," Severus replied. "But I think perhaps I can imagine."

"I will pay you back," Remus said quietly.

"If you insist," Severus answered.

"I do."

"Then don't be surprised if I donate the money to the Ministry's children's fund or some such."

Remus nodded and stared at the floor. "Thank you," he said quietly, his face burning with the heat of humiliation.

"Look at me, Remus," Severus said softly, and when Remus didn't look up immediately, he felt Severus' hands tilting his face upward. "Hold your head up," he whispered. "This is between you and me, and if anyone else knows it's because you choose to tell them."

Remus nodded, not trusting his voice. Severus pulled him closer and Remus leaned against him for a moment.

"You taught me that, you know," Severus whispered, rubbing his back. "That it's all right to accept help when someone offers it. That a friend is a more effective crutch than pride any day." Remus couldn't help but think that for a man who shied away from the most coincidental touch, Severus was doing a remarkable job of holding him. It was a bit awkward, but Remus needed the embrace as much as he needed the potion, and he knew it.

"I never thought I'd hear myself say this," Severus said after several minutes, "but do you know what you need more than anything else, Lupin?"

Remus forced himself to straighten and step away from the other wizard, but somehow he didn't feel much better suddenly. He felt raw, and cold, and acutely aware of a lump in his throat that hadn't been there a few minutes ago. "What?" he asked hoarsely, wrapping his arms around himself.

"A woman," Severus replied, his mouth half-quirked into a smile.

Remus snorted softly and smiled in spite of himself.

"Come here," Severus muttered, and reached for him again, and this time Remus relaxed in his arms.

* * *

_A/N: All right, this is the first real test here. I've made a conscious decision about what goes into and what stays out of this story as opposed to For Tomorrow We May Die, and everything not directly related to the Ministry laws and Lupin belongs in the other one, I think. Therefore, most of the Snape/Lupin goodies are over there. To those who are reading both chronologically (which is why I'm posting where these chapters fall within the other story line) this should work fairly seamlessly. To those who are not reading both, I'm trusting you to just accept that Snape and Lupin had a falling out and then reconciled to a large extent. I CANNOT run that storyline in two places without miring down the overall plot._

_However, if this is too disjointed, let me know and I can add some more overlap/explanation. I'm struggling to avoid having essentially the same story from two points of view, but I do think they can exist independently of one another. I need feedback if I'm not carving in the right place. Really I do._

_duj, tall oaks, cecelle-- yes, you've all hit it right on the head-- the tables have turned and I'm not at all sure that Lupin is handling it as well as Severus did in the past._

_duj-- that was PRECISELY what I was going for-- Lupin spent so much time whittling away the walls Severus had built for precisely that reason only to strike at him when he was defenseless then. ANd I don't think he has any concept of how badly that hurts, because I don't see Lupin as having ever had such a hard time trusting someone._

_tall oaks-- Lupin is very raw right now, in my eyes. He has spent a lot of time in my fics being reasonable and practical and 'the rock' for everyone else, so it's hard for him to switch gears and lean on someone else._

_cecelle-- very right about it being awkward, and the timing sucking. however, his intentions are true. they really are. He really did want to patch everything up with Severus. (of course, some of this was answered in TWMD, so you already know that)._

_Thanks for the comments, all, and thanks for reading whether you're leaving comments or not!_

_Jen_


	6. Chapter 6: The Price of True Friendship

**Chapter 6: The Price of True Friendship**

_A/N: This chapter occurs between chapters 34 and 35 of For Tomorrow We May Die._

* * *

_Monday, 9 September_

Remus sat in the waiting room again, drumming his fingers restlessly on the arm of his chair. This was getting old rather quickly. His appointment was scheduled for two and it was already five after, and as best he could tell, the appointments were running a good fifteen minutes behind.

And Severus wasn't there. Remus hadn't seen him since the term had started; work was apparently keeping him quite busy. It was understandable, and Remus knew that the world did not revolve around him and his needs for this damn potion. He'd been hoping, though.

"Remus?"

Lara appeared in the doorway, smiling broadly as she gestured for him to join her, and he sighed, standing and following her to her office. Once again, the office was a mess, perhaps even more so than it had been the first time he was there. As Lara settled into her chair behind her desk, she sighed softly and began rummaging.

"How have you been? It's been a while since we've spoken," she said affably, but her voice sounded strained. She looked exhausted, and as though she'd aged ten years since he'd last seen her two weeks ago. There were dark shadows under her eyes, and a crease between her eyebrows that hadn't been there the last time. She looked like a woman who had seen more than she wanted. Her smile had not changed, though, and despite a general fatigue etched across her face, the compassion had not left.

"I've been well," he replied. It was something of a lie; he'd spent most of the last two weeks either recovering from the last full moon or worrying over the next, but she didn't need to know that. "How have you been?"

"A little tired, I must confess," she replied, still smiling brightly. "It's been a long month already. I apologize that I wasn't able to meet with you as scheduled last time. I had some rather unpleasant business to attend." She finally put her hands on a folder and nodded, laying it open on the desk in front of her.

"May I ask what happened?" he asked, telling himself that it was only natural to be curious, that it wasn't because he gave a damn about her. But he had to admit that he _did_ give a damn. She might be the easiest target for his anger and hatred, but she wasn't the one who deserved it. That was a right reserved specifically for Marius Davis.

"I probably shouldn't tell you," she said, "but I prefer it not be a matter of secrecy." He frowned slightly, and she closed her eyes and took a deep breath. "My presence was required at the execution of a werewolf."

"What?" he asked, blinking rapidly. There had always been provisions for the execution of werewolves who turned violent, but he couldn't remember it ever actually happening. At least, not officially.

"He attacked a seventeen-year-old Muggle girl," Lara replied softly. "Killed her. The attack was witnessed by eleven Muggles who had to be Obliviated and three wizards."

Remus forked a hand through his hair and exhaled sharply, his sense of compassion for the werewolf warring with his sense of compassion for the girl and her family and the general horror that the execution had been carried out to begin with.

"Naturally, I would advise you not to spread this information about. The very last thing we desire is to cause panic, of course, but Remus, the Ministry is very serious about stopping the spread of lycanthropy. Minister Davis wants to see the instance of new werewolves drop by fifty percent in the next five years, and he is determined to see that the Ministry does everything in its power to see that end. I'm telling you this because I want you to realize that Minister Davis is far more committed to this than Minister Fudge was. You must be _very_ cautious."

Remus nodded weakly, settling back against his chair, his head still reeling from the shock. He couldn't remember the Ministry ever executing a werewolf. Many died, of course, and many under suspicious circumstances, sometimes even while in Ministry custody, but the Ministry had maintained an outward appearance of compassion in the last thirty years. That the Ministry had executed one openly was a chillingly sobering departure. If they executed openly, what would go on behind closed doors?

"All right, let's see," Lara said, standing up. "Might as well get the unpleasant part out of the way first, right?"

He was startled out of his contemplation by her hand on his arm, urging him to his feet, and a sense of cold dread swept over him as she ushered him to the back of the room. All the dread in the world wouldn't change a thing, however, and he soon found himself standing nude in front of her while she made what must have been very detailed notes about his knuckles, which were still swollen and red from when he had punched the wall in Severus' office. Molly had said he'd cracked them, but he'd stubbornly refused to go back to Hogwarts and let Poppy look at them, just as he'd stubbornly refused to go to St. Mungo's. Besides, what would they have done? Cracked knuckles healed just fine on their own.

Lara was bent over her notes when a brisk knock at the door prompted Remus to open his eyes, and for a moment, he just stared at Lara, praying that she told whoever it was to go away. Lara glanced up, and to Remus' horror, the door swung open and the receptionist's head appeared.

"I'm sorry to interrupt, but there's a wizard out here who is being very vocal that he be allowed to speak with you, Lara."

"I'm busy," Lara replied, and Remus remembered why he detested her so much. Could she not at least tell the other woman off for intruding like that?

"He's causing quite a scene," the receptionist said doubtfully.

Remus wasn't sure what was more degrading—the fact that he was standing there without a stitch of clothing on while two women carried on a conversation around him, or that the two women didn't even seem to notice that he as standing there naked. It was as though he didn't even exist.

"Very well," Lara sighed. "Tell him to have a seat and I'll speak with him as soon as I'm finished with Remus." The receptionist retreated again, and Lara smiled at Remus. "So sorry about that. Now how did you get those knuckles?"

His face burning, Remus muttered, "I hit them on a wall."

Lara clucked her tongue and shook her head. "Well, don't do that again," she chided softly. "All right, turn around now." She touched a place on his hip, frowning slightly. "Is that tender?"

"No." He closed his eyes again, trying to imagine himself away from this humiliation. This ritual, he was sure, was designed to shave twenty years off his mental and emotional age. As Lara bent to make a few more notes, he folded his arms across his chest and stared at the wall.

"Cold?" she asked. "I can light the fire if you like."

"I'm fine," he snapped.

A commotion rose in the hallway suddenly, and Lara paused in her writing, frowning at the door. She bent to her task again, and the receptionist's voice came clearly through the walls.

"Sir! You cannot go back there! Take a seat in the waiting room and Miss Berkeley… Sir! SIR!"

The door swung open again and Remus tightened his arms about himself as Lara dropped her quill and stalked to the door.

"This is a private office, sir, and you will leave immediately!" she said, standing firmly in the doorway. Remus reached for his robe, deciding that this examination was finished; there was simply no chance that he was facing a potentially dangerous situation clad only in his skin.

"I'm sure you are capable of preventing me from doing whatever I damn well please, Miss Berkeley," came a familiar, icy voice. "_Now move out of my way._" Severus stalked past Lara, looking exceptionally put out. "Remus, I apologize for…" he stopped, looking discerningly at Remus, who had managed to put his hand on his robe but nothing else. Remus took the opportunity to pull it hastily over his head, his face still burning. "Am I interrupting something?" Severus asked, a faint note of amusement in his voice as he looked at Lara.

"No," Remus said bluntly.

"You will leave this instant, or I will call the guard and…"

"Remus, do you want me to leave?"

"I, ah…" he began, pulling his robe over his head in a desperate attempt to regain some of his missing composure.

"_I_ am telling you to leave!" Lara said, her hands on her hips.

"And I'm not listening to you. Remus?"

"You had best listen to me! I don't want to call the guards but…"

"Then don't. I'm not breaking any laws," Severus said calmly. "According to provisions outlined on page 339 of the Werewolf Code of Conduct, a werewolf is allowed an advocate or guardian during meetings with his advisor. Or did I read that incorrectly?"

"Well, yes," Lara was saying, looking incredulous. "But that provision is aimed at children! To allow parents or grandparents to accompany them to sign the forms and…"

"And it doesn't say anything about who the provision is limited to."

Remus began chuckling.

"This is ridiculous," Lara snapped.

"I tend to agree," Severus replied. "This is, what? The third time you've been here in a month, Remus?"

"Fourth," he corrected.

"Fourth! See, that is truly ridiculous."

"Remus, just give me the word and I will have the guards come and remove him," Lara said, looking at Remus.

"He isn't bothering me," Remus replied, glancing at Severus. He could have hugged him just now.

"Oh, very well," she muttered, snatching up her quill again. She pointed at one of the chairs in front of her desk. "You sit there and stay out of the way," she commanded Severus, and stalked back towards Remus. "And you get on that scale," she hissed. "And take off that damn robe. Honestly, Remus, you make this about three times more complicated than it has to be."

Remus' smile faded as he glanced at Severus again. At least Severus had the decency to turn his back, and he seemed to have found something quite interesting on a piece of parchment that he was holding. Remus peeled off his robe and stepped onto the scale, his face burning again as Lara fiddled with the balance.

There was another knock on the door, and then the door swung open yet _again_. "Lara, do I need to call the guards?" the receptionist asked, poking her head around the door.

"No," Lara replied stiffly.

The door shut again, and Severus cleared his throat. "You know," he said conversationally, "if I were the one standing on the scale, I think I'd be rather offended that half the Ministry is allowed to waltz into this room when there isn't so much as a screen to shield me from probing eyes."

"No one in this Ministry is interested in ogling a werewolf who is being examined," Lara replied tightly.

If that was supposed to make Remus feel better, it didn't work. As distasteful as the entire situation was, it was just one more insult to suggest that werewolves weren't even human.

"All right. Get dressed." Lara's usually affable manner had been replaced by a more perfunctory one as she made a few more scratches on the pages in his folder. "You've lost weight, Remus. We'll need to discuss your diet. Are you not being fed properly?"

Remus didn't bother to answer as he jerked his robe over his head one more time and finished getting dressed quickly. He returned to his seat, leaving Lara to scribble across the room.

"Not being fed properly?" Severus repeated, raising an eyebrow. "With Molly in control of the kitchen?"

Remus snorted softly. "Actually, there's been a bit of a power struggle in the kitchen lately. Neither Molly nor Autumn approves of the way the other cooks, and the rest of us are only benefiting from their little competition to see who can outdo the other."

Severus snorted. "I can only imagine."

"You should come for dinner and see firsthand," Remus suggested.

"We've had this conversation, Remus, and…"

"Now," Lara said abruptly, sitting behind the desk. "I'm including a brochure about the Ministry-recommended diet for werewolves." She looked at Severus, and continued, "Remus needs to be very conscientious eating properly. The transformation is very taxing on the body, and he needs to—"

"Why are you telling me this?" Severus asked. "Remus is in that chair, and I dare say that after thirty-odd years, he knows how taxing the transformation is. What is that, anyway? Three hundred sixty full moons?"

"More like three hundred ninety," Remus replied, enjoying the chance to ignore Lara for once. "Thirteen in a year, generally speaking."

"Of course," Severus said, nodding. "So does that not make you…"

"Gentlemen," Lara interrupted, and they both looked at her. "I am ecstatic to know that Remus has a friend, but…"

"He actually has several friends," Severus interrupted. "And I'm not the only one who's tired of the way he's being treated."

Lara's eyes widened. "Treated? Has someone mistreated you, Remus?" she asked, and damn her, the concern was back in her voice. The crease between her eyes had returned, and she was looking intently at him.

"Well," Remus replied, folding his arms across his chest. "Now that you mention it, I wouldn't call it particularly outstanding treatment to be poked and prodded at, examined every other week for cuts and bruises while I stand…"

"I am very sorry that you don't like undressing, Remus. If there were something I could do about it, I would. It is not my intention to make you uncomfortable."

"I do understand that you have no control over these rules, but you could at least treat me like a man instead of a dog."

Lara sighed heavily. "Fine," she said. "I will make a note to myself that next time I should make fawning comments over the size of your penis. Will that make you feel better?"

Remus' jaw dropped, and he stared at her for a minute, not even wanting to believe that she'd just said that.

"That was uncalled for, Miss Berkeley," Severus said tightly.

Lara massaged her temples for a minute. "You're right," she said. "It was. I'm sorry, Remus. I am very frustrated because I don't know what you want from me. We do everything we can to make our processes as painless as possible, both physically and emotionally, and I don't understand where we're falling so short."

"You might start by…" Severus began, but Remus interrupted him.

"Forget about it."

"No," Lara said. "I am truly interested in what you have to say. I apologize for my outburst a moment ago, it was in extremely poor taste and…"

"I said forget about it," Remus repeated. "There are more important things for us to be discussing here."

"Remus…"

"Please," he said, shaking his head. "Drop it." Severus raised an eyebrow, but shrugged. Lara regarded him silently for a moment, then looked down at her folder.

"If you change your mind, Remus, I'll be more than happy to hear your concerns. Perhaps we should move on, though. We're a bit behind schedule, and there was something I was hoping to speak with you about before you go." She peered at the top sheet of parchment and made a tiny tick with her quill. "Last time you were here, Deborah spoke with you about the importance of leaving us a valid address. Have you found a permanent home yet?"

"No," Remus replied stiffly, taking a deep breath and mentally preparing himself to answer this question for a _third_ time.

"Have you read over the material about the housing options? I know you object to the implication of charity, but don't think of it that way. This Ministry is making conscious efforts to better the situation of werewolves all over Great Britain. These housing units offer a great many rewards," she continued. He massaged his eyes and half listened while Severus regarded him carefully. "Perhaps you think they are atrocities with rows of cots and…"

"Does the Ministry offer that much comfort to werewolves?" Severus muttered, half under his breath. "How touching."

Remus snorted; Lara glared. "…and soup kitchens," she continued, her tone a bit stiffer. "But it is not like that at all. These are flats, Remus, furnished comfortably, with kitchenettes and private baths. You would be free to entertain guests as you please, to come and go as you please…"

"I do not need Ministry hand outs," Remus said bluntly. "I have a place to stay."

"Then you have an address?" Lara asked, though she didn't sound hopeful.

"No."

"I do not understand how you have a place to live but do not have an address where we can reach you," Lara said, her voice taking on the tint of frustration again.

"The situation is delicate," Severus broke in.

"Is it?" Lara asked.

"Yes," Severus replied. Remus gave him a sideways glance.

"Perhaps if one of you would explain it, I would be better able to understand," she suggested.

"Ah, you see," Severus began, leaning forward, "Remus is staying with… a _friend_ you understand. It might cause some, ah, discomfort if it were widely known where he spends his nights."

Remus chewed the inside of his mouth in an attempt to keep from laughing as Lara's face underwent a series of changes that would have made a kaleidoscope envious.

"It is really for the best, for everyone involved, if his whereabouts are not made public."

Lara finally settled on an indignant expression. "This Ministry is not in the habit of publicizing information about anyone, werewolf, wizard, goblin or ghost!"

"That is quite comforting," Severus replied blandly.

Lara looked at Remus. "Where are you staying?" she demanded.

"I've been telling you since the first meeting that I'm staying with friends," he replied. From the corner of his eye, he could see that Severus looked bored with the line of discussion. Severus was an excellent liar.

Lara studied Remus for a moment, and he concentrated on keeping a straight face. She looked at Severus, and then back at Remus again, and took a deep breath. "I'm going to give you this literature on Ministry housing options," she began.

"I already have the literature, thank you," Remus replied as though he wasn't aware that she was aware it had been given to him no less than twice already.

"Will you _read_ it, Remus? Or will you give me an address?"

"I cannot give you an address," he replied. "But I have told you how to reach me."

"Yes," she snapped. "Care of Albus Dumbledore. One would think you were living at the school and…" She frowned suddenly, her eyes shooting back to Severus and then widening slightly. Remus was hard pressed not to burst out laughing at the expression of curious horror that flittered briefly across her face.

"I'll read over the literature," Remus promised, and she glanced at him, then nodded.

"Thank you."

She scribbled a note into the folder and then gave him another considering look. "The full moon is the eighteenth," she said. "What are your plans?"

Remus looked at Severus, who produced a bottle from his pocket. "Wolfsbane Potion," he said unnecessarily. Remus could have kissed him.

"You are not one of our approved brewers," Lara began, frowning at Severus. She looked at Remus again. "I have a note from Deborah to follow up on this. She expressed concern that you had already paid for the brewing of the potion from an unqualified brewer."

"I am hardly unqualified, Miss Berkeley," Severus said sharply. "And I am well aware of the Ministry's ridiculous statutes regarding registered brewers. I procured this from an associate of mine who _is_ a registered brewer."

"Who?" Lara asked, echoing the question on Remus' mind.

"Emilia Wickliffe," Severus replied, producing from his pocket a folded and sealed parchment. "I believe this is the appropriate letter certifying that I am delivering the potion on her behalf."

Lara took the parchment and gave him a dubious look, then flicked a fingernail under the edge of the seal and skimmed. She looked at the front, then the back, then at Severus again. "This says she sent fifty vials," she said. "Surely you do not have all fifty in your pocket. I do hope you didn't use a shrinking charm on them. It's a terribly unstable potion and…"

"I am _well_ aware of the instability of the potion," Severus said quietly. "The remaining bottles are with your receptionist."

Lara blinked, and nodded. "Very well," she replied, offering the bottle to Remus. He took it and was slipping it into his pocket when she lifted an eyebrow. "That isn't going to do a bit of good in your pocket, Remus," she said.

_Oh, am I included in this conversation again?_ he thought irritably. "I am quite familiar with how it works," he said aloud.

"Might as well go on and drink it," she suggested, folding her hands atop the desk. It sounded more like an order, however it might have been phrased.

"I'll drink it this evening," he replied evenly.

"Will we ever find the policy that you won't resist?" she asked softly. "If a Ministry official does not witness your taking the potion, we cannot affirm that you took it properly."

"Why would I not drink it?" he asked. "How would I manage to drink it incorrectly? It's a damned potion, Lara, not a complex task!"

"Just drink it," Severus murmured. "Choose your battles."

Remus looked at Severus, who was looking at Lara, his lips set in a thin line and his eyes hard. Lara's attention was focused mildly on Remus, and she was giving him the same look she gave him when he protested disrobing in front of her. He sighed.

"Fine," he grumbled, pulling the vial of potion out of his pocket and uncorking it. There was no goblet nearby, so he tipped the bottle to his lips and shuddered as the rancid liquid offended every taste bud on his tongue. Swallowing the stuff took a special effort as his every impulse was to spit it all over the desk. He'd once tried to convince himself that he could get used to the taste, but that conviction hadn't lasted long. It seemed worse every time he tasted it.

If it was difficult to drink it in general, it was made worse by the fact that he had two people watching him. After the fourth sip, he finally upended the rest of the bottle into his mouth and his eyes watering slightly. Severus pressed a handkerchief into his hand and removed the bottle from his fingers.

"Well, then, that wasn't so bad, was it?" Lara asked. Remus gave her a venomous look and she cleared her throat. "Is there anything else we need to discuss this afternoon?" she asked with a smile.

"No," he whispered.

"Then come with me," she said, standing. "There is something I'd like you to see."

Remus exchanged glances with Severus, but stood. Severus stood as well, and they followed Lara out of the room, keeping a few steps behind her.

"Are you all right?" Severus asked in a low whisper.

"I'm fine," Remus replied. They walked silently for a few steps, then Remus snorted softly. "You do realize what she thought you meant in there when you were talking about where I'm living?"

Severus snorted as well. "I can't be responsible for her misconceptions," he replied. Remus shook his head and smiled. The look on Lara's face was one he was going to hold onto for many months to come, he thought. "If you want to tell her you're staying with me, just tell me so I'll be prepared to play out the lie," Severus said softly.

Remus stared at him, but Severus was avoiding his eyes.

"It might placate her enough to give up on the Ministry housing."

Remus touched his arm slightly, and when Severus looked at him, smiled. "Thank you," he said quietly.

Severus shrugged, taking half a step away from him, then cleared his voice. "Where are we going, Miss Berkeley?" he asked.

"You'll see," she replied cryptically. Severus scowled, but Remus felt a sense of cold dread creeping over him, and he tightened his fingers around his wand. He recognized the corridor very well.

A few minutes more, and they reached their destination. Lara opened a door to a long, drafty corridor lined on either side with heavy doors with sliding windows near the bottoms.

"Is this…" Severus began quietly, and Remus swallowed hard, nodding. "Miss Berkeley," Severus called out acerbically. "If this is your idea of a cruel joke, it is not amusing."

She paused and turned, frowning slightly. "It isn't a joke," she said, her forehead creased. "I wanted to show Remus what we have been doing. Look." She pushed open one of the doors, and Remus found himself staring into a cell, almost identical to the one had inhabited a little less than a month ago. He scrubbed a hand over his face and wondered if he was shaking as hard as he felt he was.

"Remus?" Severus' voice held a note of alarm and he clutched Remus' elbow, steadying him. "Miss Berkeley," Severus said sharply. "I cannot imagine what possessed you to bring us down here, but…"

"I wanted Remus to see the progress we've made! It was his suggestions that instigated these changes and…"

Remus leaned against the wall, blinking, trying desperately to focus on the sound of Lara's voice, or the nearly painful grip Severus had on his arm.

"…not finished yet, of course, but we took two feet from each cell and formed bathrooms to be shared by adjoining occupants…"

"Remus?" Severus sounded as though he were in an underwater cavern a mile away. Remus folded his arms across his stomach, feeling ill.

"…couldn't convince him of the prudence of beds, but he did agree to straw on the floor, so at least it won't be as cold and hard…"

"Straw?" Severus hissed. "One lines a _horse_ stall with straw, Miss Berkeley. It does not make for a comfortable bed for humans!"

"It's better than the stone floor, isn't it?" she snapped.

"Can we just leave?" Remus whispered. Severus slipped an arm around his back.

"We're going now," he announced authoritatively.

"But you haven't seen…"

"WE'VE SEEN MORE THAN ENOUGH!"

Remus found himself being pulled along and guided out of the nightmarish corridor, but his breathing was still labored as they emerged into the brighter light of the corridor where Lara's office was located.

"Remus? You look pale. Do you feel all right?" Lara asked, and he felt soft hands on his face. "Here, Severus, I think he's going to be ill. There's a bathroom in here…"

A door opened, and Remus found his head shoved unceremoniously over a toilet, and just in time as he began emptying his stomach. Someone gathered his hair away from his face, and there was a hand on his back; he didn't know which of them did either. After heaving several more times, a cool, damp cloth appeared at his face, and Severus turned him around.

"Are you quite finished?" he asked, though his voice lacked some of its usual edge.

"I think so," Remus whispered weakly. Lara took the cloth from his hand and patted his face and neck with it, her touch gentle.

"There," she whispered. "I'm sorry, Remus. I didn't realize it would affect you so. I just wanted you to see that we have been working…"

He opened his eyes, and closed them again quickly; there were tears on her cheeks and he didn't think he had the strength to watch her cry out of pity. "You're doing a fine job," he managed to croak.

He felt arms around his shoulders, and his head was cushioned against something far to soft and full to belong to Severus. She rocked him gently, and he made a half-hearted attempt to pull away from her, acutely aware that he had an audience for this little spectacle. "I'm fine," he whispered. "Really, I'm fine."

She didn't let go of him though, and after a moment he stopped struggling, resigned to suffer the indignity of unsolicited sympathy.

"I'll take care of him," Severus said suddenly. "Go on. You have others waiting on you. Some who do not have the support Remus has, I'd think." Severus' hands were firm as they grasped his shoulders and pulled him away from her.

Lara lingered a moment longer, then stood. "I am sorry," she insisted softly. "I didn't realize…"

"Go on," Severus urged her again, though not as harshly as he'd spoken to her only moments before. "Leave him a bit of dignity."

Remus exhaled sharply, though it fell short of a laugh by any stretch of the imagination. Dignity was the only thing he'd had that he could truly call his for many years; it had been slowly evaporating in the past few months.

"I'm so sorry," Lara said once more, giving his arm another squeeze.

He forced a smile. "I'm fine," he said. "Go on."

She paused at the door, and addressed the both of them. "If you want to use this office, you may. No one will disturb you." The door opened, and then closed, and there was silence.

Severus settled onto the floor beside him, shoulder to shoulder with him, and for several minutes, no words passed between them. Finally, Severus broke the silence. "She honestly cares, doesn't she?"

Remus nodded mutely. It should have made it easier to bear the indignities, knowing that there were people like Lara who were quite sympathetic. "They all care," he said after a lengthy pause.

"It would be easier if they didn't, wouldn't it?" Severus asked.

"Is that the most irrational thing you've ever heard?"

"No," Severus replied. "It is easier to bear a burden if you can blame someone. It would be convenient to blame her, but it is difficult to blame her."

Remus nodded.

After another brief pause, Severus stood, rinsed the cloth he'd taken from Lara, and flushed the toilet. "Let's go," he suggested, offering his hand. Remus took it, and Severus helped him to his feet, steadying him, and then pointing needlessly at the sink. "Wonder what time it is," Severus mused while Remus washed his hands.

"There's a clock in the waiting room," Remus answered as he dried his hands.

"I need to make a detour down the hall to turn in these forms, but after that, how do you feel about trying some of that nonsense that passes for Muggle food?"

Remus snorted softly. "What forms?" he asked quietly.

"The ones that say I'm competent enough to brew the potion I made my Master's piece," Severus replied.

"Your Master's piece?" Remus repeated.

"Yes. I spent two years researching that damned potion and brewed more than three hundred cauldrons of it before my supervisor was content that I'd done it properly. I doubt there's a witch or wizard alive in Europe who knows as much about the blasted mixture as I do, despite my efforts to forget everything the ingredients interact with."

Remus frowned slightly. "Is it really that bad, knowing so much about it?"

Severus snorted. "No," he replied. "It gives me something to complain about when I can't complain about what's really upsetting me. Are you finished?"

Remus nodded.

"Let's go."

* * *

_A/N: Updates updates updates! I did not intend to be absent for a month! I am SOO SORRY! I got sidetracked with a story on Sycophant Hex (caused sme waves, needed to dust off my flameproof suit again, earned a few new fans. It was a good three week 'hiatus')_

_Anyway, I'm back to writing on these stories again, and trying to decide if I want to move my problem-causing fic over here. I got almost 500 reviews for it on SH, which is traditionally kind of a low review site, and I irritated a lot of people, and there's a much lower instance of fangirl there than there is here. So I'm still deciding about this one._

_This story... Silverthreads: thank you regarding Edward's mum. Yes, I've thought the same things about her. I'm trying to give myself a number of options here, and I'm enjoying the wanton creation of OFCs (it's the contrarian in me. I've seen one too many comment that 'all OFCs are Mary Sues' and I'm just determined to create as many non-Mary Sues as I possibly can.) As far as romance goes, my Wolfsbane readers are clamoring for Lupin to get some, so it might happen. It's a fic that's so Lupin-centric and plot heavy that if I do include a love interest, it will be a sideplot. We'll see. Depends on how things go. My original inclination (when I was writing the first chapter here) was that Lara would be a love interest, but after I got her set up, I realized that she was so rich that it would be degrading to turn her into a romantic involvement. There's too much surrounding her. Edward's mum was originally the same, a half-attempt to introduce a love interest, but again, I'm not sure that it wouldn't kill her a bit. I've introduced four OFCs who were potential love interests, but I'm not sure any of them will turn out to be. _

_duj- you are absolutely right. If anyone is confused, they can go read Tomorrow. I've come to the conclusion that I'm not going to worry about how 'OOC'the characters look in this fic if it's read as a stand alone._

_tall oaks-I really think I responded to this review over on 'Tomorrow'. Oops. Anyway, I'm glad you're enjoying. That WWII story is something I remember from High School and it made quite an impression on me then. I did enjoy pulling out a new side to Remus.In my own experience, a lot of people who are 'rocks' for everyone else have a hard time accepting the role reversal._

_Nad- thanks! lol, I've had a lot of reviewers suggest that Lupin needs a woman. And if I'm in a benevolent enough mood, it might just happen.I'm feeling generous at the moment and tend to agree, even if the story is a bit more poignant if he'salone. If I hook him up with someone, it will be so tempting to have her love 'fix' everything, so it will become more of a challenge to write._

_Daydream believer- thank you! I can't believe how much sympathy Edward has gotten. In every story I write, I've had some sort of surprise from my reviewers- something they've picked up on that stunned me. In this one, it's Edward. I have a feeling I'll be writing more abuot him._

_Hecate- thank you! I'm glad the plots are making sense. _

_Arcadia- thank you, I'm glad you're enjoying!_

_Thanks to everyone for reading!_

_Jen_


	7. Chapter 7: Heightened Awareness

**Chapter 7: Heightened Awareness**

A/N: This chapter occurs between chapters 37 and 38 of For Tomorrow We May Die.

* * *

_Monday, 16 September_

Remus rolled over and slapped irately at the insistently buzzing alarm, sighing miserably. Reporting to the Ministry every morning promptly at eight was beginning to take its toll on his patience, and a late night hadn't done much to help.

Opening one eye, he peered at the clock. Five. He knew he needed to get out of bed and go take a shower now if he wanted to have hot water—Arthur would be up in half an hour, and then Bill, then Charlie, then the twins, then Molly… By seven, hot water would be a priceless commodity. As would a tea cup. To some extent, it irritated him that he had to be the one to accommodate their schedule, but every time that thought crept unbidden into his mind, he reminded himself that someone was going to have to make a change, and in the same breath that he asked why him, he could ask why _not_ him.

And perhaps the latter was the more valid of the two questions. After all, the Weasleys, at least, were making a living. He wasn't doing anything but taking up space and living off the generosity of others.

The last few days, that fact had really embedded itself firmly into his mind. He went to the Ministry of Magic every morning and sat in front of Lara Berkeley and drank his dose of Wolfsbane Potion, then turned around and walked back out of the Werewolf Support Services Office and tried not to meet the eyes of those less fortunate than he.

Those less fortunate than he. Meaning those who did not have wealthy friends who died and left mansions for them to live in and those who did not have Potions masters who brewed Wolfsbane as friends and those who did not have families of six living under their roofs. Families with mums like Molly Weasley who was simply appalled at the idea of beans and toast for dinner and firmly believed that one more person didn't make the least bit of difference in the cooking of meals.

He was getting tired of living off the generosity and good grace of others.

By the time he arrived at the Werewolf Support Services Office, fifteen minutes before eight and therefore fifteen minutes before anyone was there to open the doors, he'd worked himself into a regular pity pool over his circumstances. Nothing could have been more adept at emasculating a man than the humiliating and humbling experience of being a werewolf under this Ministry.

Fighting the urges to yawn and sink onto the floor to wait for the doors to open, Remus leaned against the wall and folded his arms, closing his eyes and waiting for eight o'clock. As soon as he'd had his potion, he had every intention of going back home and crawling back into bed for another six hours of sleep.

He heard the sound of footsteps approaching, but didn't open his eyes; he didn't really care who it was, at least until he heard a weary and familiar voice.

"Stop that. Sit there on the floor, and put your hands in your pockets."

Remus opened his eyes enough to confirm the identity of the speaker—the mother of the young boy, Edward. It was Edward who was sitting on the floor now, his hands in his pockets, looking solemn. Forcing himself away from the wall, Remus straightened and watched for a moment as she shifted the sleeping child in her arms so that she could dig in her purse. She seemed to be having a time of it, trying to juggle child and purse at the same time, and Remus took a step towards her.

"Can I help you with that?" he asked, lifting her purse without waiting for her response. He held it on his upturned palms, and she paused for a moment, not quite meeting his eyes, then retrieved a rumpled envelope from one of the side pockets.

"Thank you," she said softly.

"Not at all."

He glanced down at Edward, who was inching away from his mother very slowly. She followed Remus' gaze and hissed, "Edward! Get back over here _now_."

"But Mu-um," Edward whined, "I don't _want_ to see Miss Lara."

"I don't either, but sometimes we have to do things we don't want to do," his mother replied, then turned back to Remus. "Do you have children?" she asked.

"No," he replied, shaking his head, a little bewildered. She still had the dark circles under her eyes, and she still looked painfully thin, but she didn't look as listless as he remembered her. She looked a bit irritated, in fact.

"Consider yourself fortunate," she muttered. "Edward! Get up. Come stand over here, in front of me. _Now._"

Remus glanced at Edward just in time to see him reaching into his mother's purse and jerk his hand away quickly, as though he'd been bitten. He was sulking as he did as he was told. Remus felt a faint smile creep onto his face.

"We've spoken," he said, turning his attention back to the woman, "but I don't think we've been properly introduced. Remus Lupin." He extended a hand, then stupidly realized that she had her hands more than full of the child in her arms.

"Diana Murphy," she replied, smiling slightly, an expression that momentarily transformed her tired face. Her smile faded suddenly though. "Edward!"

Remus looked around just in time to see Edward slinking off towards the lift, and he made four long strides to catch up with the escaping child and clamped a hand onto his shoulder, steering him back to his mother. He was about to release the boy, but thought twice of it, and left his hand on his shoulder.

"Thank you," Diana said, then glared at Edward. "What did I tell you before we left home this morning?"

Edward was looking down and didn't answer.

"Did we talk about what was going to happen if you didn't behave today?"

"I don't _want_ to see Miss Lara," Edward protested again. "I want to go home. I don't like it here."

Remus squeezed his shoulder gently, sympathizing. He didn't like it here either.

"I'm sorry," Diana said, giving Edward a stern look. "We're a little cranky."

Something in Remus bristled at that. A little cranky. Her child was going into one of the Ministry holding cells for three days, and she said he was being cranky. Remus thought he'd be more than cranky if he were the one being forced back into that confinement. He tightened his grip on the boy's shoulder, but Edward was already squirming away from him.

"You're a werewolf too, aren't you?" he asked, craning his head back to look up at Remus.

Remus crouched, balancing on the balls of his feet, his arms propped on his knees. "Yes," he replied, "I am."

"I'm Edward. What's your name?"

"Remus."

"Does Miss Lara make you undress and get on the scales too?"

"Edward!"

Remus glanced up at Diana and shook his head slightly. "It's all right," he assured her, then nodded at Edward. "She does."

"Why does she do that?"

The immediate answer in Remus' head was 'because she's a bitch', but that hardly seemed an appropriate response to give a seven year old child. "She's just doing her job," he replied at last.

"Did you have to stay here last month?" A shadow crossed Edward's face, and the corners of his mouth plunged into a deeper frown.

"Yes," Remus replied quietly. Diana was leaning against the wall now, watching them.

"I was scared," Edward confessed softly, scuffing the toe of his shoe against the floor. "I was trying to be brave, but…"

"It's hard to be brave when you're all alone, isn't it?" Remus asked quietly, and Edward nodded, then looked up at him with big brown eyes.

"Were you scared too?" he asked, sounding hopeful. Remus wished he knew what the boy wanted to hear—that yes, he, a grown man, was frightened as well, or that no, there was nothing to fear. He settled for honesty.

"Yes," he replied. "I was scared too. I think we all were."

Edward's eyes grew even rounder. "Did you cry?" he asked.

Remus glanced up at Diana; she was clinging to the child in her arms, tears streaming down her face, and he forgave her for calling Edward cranky. This couldn't be easy for her either.

"Yes," he said softly. "I did."

"Me too," Edward confessed. He was blinking rapidly now, his eyes shimmering behind a sheen of unshed tears. "I don't want to go back."

And what do you say to something like that? Tell him it will be all right, when you both know it won't? He might be seven years old, but he's human, and he knows when he's frightened and when he's hurting, and he was frightened and hurting just then. It would be an outright lie to tell him that everything would be all right, yet Remus wanted to offer him some sort of reassurance, to give him some kind of comfort.

"I know," he said at last, taking a deep breath in the hopes that it would steady his voice. "But you just keep telling yourself that it won't last long, and think about how when you come out, your mum will be waiting there for you. I know it isn't easy, but you have to just keep being brave. Will you do that for me, Edward?"

Edward nodded, and a silence settled between them. Before it had the chance to become uncomfortable though, the door opened and Lara stepped into the corridor, smiling broadly, though looking concerned as her eyes drifted from Edward to Diana, then to Remus. Remus stood slowly, and was vaguely aware that Edward had taken a step back, behind him.

"Is everything all right?" Lara asked brightly, and Remus shook his head slowly. Was she ever going to learn that nothing was all right?

"Come on, Edward," Diana said, stepping forward and reaching for her older son. "Let's go."

Lara stood aside, watching as the four of them filed into the office, then followed them inside. She gestured into the waiting room, looking at Remus. "Do you mind having a seat?" she asked. "I just want to get Edward settling."

"You don't have to go too?" Edward asked, suddenly looking quite betrayed. Remus sat in one of the chairs, leaning forward, his eyes level with Edward's.

"No," he said. "Not this month."

"Why not?"

"Edward, that's enough," Diana said sharply, but Edward wouldn't be swayed.

"Is it because you were good?" Edward asked.

"No," Remus said firmly. "It has nothing to do with being bad or good. You aren't here because you've done anything wrong, do you understand that?"

Edward nodded but looked doubtful. "Then why don't you have to stay?"

Remus looked at Diana, and for a long moment, she held his gaze, then looked away. He had no idea if that meant he should answer the question or not. Finally, he sighed. "I'm taking a potion," he said. "It means I don't have to stay."

"Does it mean you don't turn into a werewolf?" Edward asked.

"No," Remus replied. "I still transform. It just lets me remember who I am, so I can remember not to be a danger."

"Oh."

"Let's go," Diana said, reaching for Edward again, but he danced out of the way once more, still looking into Remus' eyes.

"Can I take the potion too?" he asked, and Remus' mouth opened, but no words came out. He glanced at Diana.

"No," she said firmly. "Now let's _go_."

"Why not?" Edward asked, turning to face her.

"Because I can't afford it, Edward. Now _go_."

Remus leaned back in the chair, closing his eyes and feeling worse than ever. If it weren't for the generosity of a few friends, he wouldn't be in nearly as favorable a position. His heart was breaking for the boy, a seven-year-old who didn't understand half of what happened to him every month.

"Can Remus come with me?" Edward asked, and Remus felt another stab of pain. When he opened his eyes, Diana was looking at him.

"Yes," Remus said softly. "I'll come with you."

He stood and followed the little procession down the all-too familiar corridor that led deep into the department. As the light dimmed to nothing more than candlelight, Remus swallowed the sense of cold dread that was threatening to surface again. After his little performance last week, he was wary of entering this part of the building, and he kept reminding himself that he needed to set a good example for Edward. The last thing the boy needed was to see a grown man reduced to a whimpering heap at simply _entering_ this place again.

They finally stopped, and Lara handed a folder over to the guard. "Murphy, Edward. Case number 43978705."

The guard made a notation in his ledger then handed Lara a key. "Number seventeen," he said, and Lara reached for Edward. He stepped away from her, though, and reached for Remus' hand instead. Without thinking, Remus took his hand and squeezed gently, then nudged him forward.

When they reached the cell, Lara unlocked it, and Remus braced himself for the horror to sweep over him. It rose in his throat like bile as the door swung open and Lara stepped inside, Edward following her. Remus found himself pulled in after, and Diana was the last to enter the cell, her younger child still plastered against her shoulder and breast like a starfish clinging to a rock.

"Go _away_, Mum!" Edward said suddenly, giving her a half-pleading, half-commanding look.

"Edward," Lara said, smiling brightly as always. "Don't you want your mother in here with you?"

"No," he said bluntly.

Diana looked as though nothing short of sheer will power was keeping her from collapsing on the floor and sobbing. Her eyes were bright, her lower lip trembling, and as she spoke, her voice was thick. "I'll just be waiting outside," she said.

She stepped back into the corridor, and Remus folded his arms as Lara steered Edward to the corner of the cell. "All right, Edward," she said, pointing at a small door. "In you go. Wait just a minute—take this with you." She handed him something, and then shut the door, leaning against the wall.

"Are you doing all right, Remus?" she asked conversationally, and Remus glanced around the cell. And to think, just a few hours ago he'd been grumping about getting out of bed and taking a shower at five o'clock.

"Yes," he said absently, his eyes settling on the pile of straw in the corner, a pair of blankets folded on top of it.

"You look tired," she observed. "Are you getting enough rest? You know you should be resting and…"

"I'm fine," he interrupted.

Before she could respond, the door opened again and Edward stepped out, wrapped in a blanket. Lara reached for him, and Edward stepped away, an expression of dread on his face.

"Come on now, Edward. You know I'm not going to hurt you."

"No," Edward replied, setting his jaw.

Lara took a step towards him, and Edward danced out of her reach. "It will only take a minute," she said soothingly as she reached for him again. He ducked away.

"No," he repeated.

Remus hugged himself as he watched the scene playing out. On the one hand, he understood Edward's reaction perfectly—he was never thrilled about this part of the process himself. On the other hand, he knew that Edward was only making it worse.

"Come on, Edward," Lara said, her voice starting to carry a slight edge of impatience. "This will be much easier if you'll just cooperate."

"But you're a _girl_," Edward protested, and Remus had to bite his tongue suddenly, in spite of himself. It was such an obvious proclamation, but spoken with such vehemence and so concisely.

"That doesn't matter," Lara said firmly. "Now, just stand still. I'm just going to—OW!"

Edward delivered a sharp kick to Lara's knee, then bolted towards the door. Remus snaked out an arm and caught him around the waist, pulling him back into the cell.

"What's going on in there?" Diana's voice called from the other side of the door.

"Maybe you'd better come in here," Remus called back, to which Edward let out a loud, shrill protest.

"NOOOOOOOO!"

Lara limped over to Edward, who was caught in Remus' arms like a fly in a spider's web, and as the door opened and Diana walked in, Lara snatched the blanket away from Edward's shoulders.

"NO GET AWAY FROM ME I WON'T LET YOU DO IT I WON'T I WON'T I WONT I WON'T…"

"Hush!" Diana stepped forward and grabbed Edward's arm, hauling him roughly to the side. The child in her arms had woken, and apparently taken exception to the noise his brother was causing, because after a moment of confused blinking, he started crying. Big, fat tears rolled down his rapidly reddening face while he tugged on Diana's robe.

"Mummy-mummy-mummy-mummy-MUMMY!" His cries grew louder and more shrill as he took offense at the fact that he was not the center of attention. Remus winced at a particularly ear-splitting wail and told himself firmly to remember this scene as an excellent reason to never forget a contraceptive if he ever had sex again.

"Robbie, please," Diana said, attempting to shift the clinging, wailing child to her other arm without letting go of Edward. Remus cleared his throat softly.

"Is there something I can…" he began.

"Here," she said, dumping the screaming child unceremoniously into his arms. The child screamed all the louder and made a valiant attempt to dive onto the floor, arms outstretched towards his mother.

"NO I WON'T LET YOU DO IT YOU CAN'T MAKE ME I WON'T I WONT I WONT!"

"MUMMYMUMMYMUMMYMUMMYMUMMYMUMMYMUMMYMUMMY!"

"EDWARD, STOP WRIGGLING AND LET MISS LARA…"

"MUMMYMUMMYMUMMYMUMMY!"

"NO NO NO NO NO!"

"MUMMYMUMMYMUMMYMUMMY!"

"ENOUGH!"

Both children stopped screaming, and Remus was momentarily impressed by the command she apparently had with a single word. At least, until he saw the wand in her hand and realized that both children were still protesting, though soundlessly now.

"_Accio _juice!" she snapped, and a cup flew into her hand, which she shoved towards Remus. He offered it to the child in his arms, and the toddler clutched at the cup with both hands, still sniffling soundlessly.

Remus shifted his newfound burden, and finally the child settled petulantly against his chest, clutching the cup and watching his mother. Diana, meanwhile, had Edward's chin between her fingers and was telling him in no uncertain terms that if he didn't adjust his attitude, she was going to adjust it for him.

Lara looked roughly like Remus felt—simultaneously amused, embarrassed and grateful that the kids weren't her problem.

"_Finite,_" Diana said, straightening, and Edward stood staring solemnly at his shoes as Lara cleared her throat and approached him again.

Diana watched for a minute, then apparently confident that Edward was going to behave, she turned to Remus and extended her arms to take the child back. He want willingly, still looking wide-eyed and wary, clinging to his cup.

"Thank you," Diana said, picking up her bag again.

Remus glanced beyond her at Edward, who was standing statue-still, though his face was red and tear-streaked. His heart ached for the boy, and he felt a searing sympathy for Diana, trying to juggle all of this alone. "Not at all," he assured her.

Once Edward had settled down, it only took a few minutes for Lara to finish her examination. Remus made an effort not to watch, which meant that he found himself watching the younger child—Robbie—instead. He was still clinging to his juice cup, though now he'd begun to sip at it a little. Like his brother, he had very big brown eyes.

"All right then, you're all done," Lara announced finally, draping the blanket around Edward's shoulders again.

"Can I have a few more minutes with him?" Diana asked, and Lara smiled.

"Of course," she said. "Remus and I will just go find his dose of Wolfsbane, and I'll be back for you in about fifteen minutes. How's that?"

Diana nodded, and Remus smiled encouragingly at her, then glanced at Edward. "See you around, Edward," he called. Edward just sniffed and continued to stare at the floor. Remus sighed softly and followed Lara back into the corridor.

They walked silently through the dark tunnel and emerged in the hallway leading to her office. "Go ahead and have a seat while I go get your potion," she said, gesturing him inside.

He sat and glanced around. Every time he was in her office, it seemed a little less organized, though each time the disorganization spoke less of a new occupant settling into the office and more of a woman with better things to do than file.

After a few minutes, she returned with a goblet emitting a silvery vapor and placed it on the desk. After nearly a week, he knew that she expected him to just pick it up and drink it, and though it made his teeth curl to even think about it, he did reach for it without prompting. He'd learned on Thursday that taking the initiative before she told him to saved a shard of his pride and made her less likely to nag. He took a small drink and his eyes watered.

"Do you have a place to spend the full moon?" Lara asked as he took his second small drink.

"Yes," he replied hoarsely, silently praying that she wouldn't ask for the address.

"Very good," she said, massaging her leg through her robe.

"Are you all right?" he asked, nodding at her knee.

She laughed softly. "I'm fine," she replied, and for a moment, her eyes twinkled. "I have to admit that there are times when I wish I had children of my own, but that generally only lasts until I have to spend five minutes with someone else's."

Remus snorted softly and took another drink. "I can't say that a similar thought didn't cross my mind," he commented dryly.

"I don't suppose it will ever be a problem for you, will it?"

He bristled slightly at the implication. "Of course not," he agreed blandly. "No woman would put herself in such a position with a werewolf, would she?" He drank half of what was left in the goblet and shuddered.

"I didn't say that," Lara protested. "I wasn't even thinking it, actually."

"Then what?" A flicker of doubt crossed her face, and he paused with the goblet halfway to his lips, raising an eyebrow.

"I just assumed that you were… well…" She cleared her throat, a faint blush touching her cheeks.

"That I was what?" he asked, putting the goblet down.

She cleared her throat. "It really isn't important," she replied, waving her hand at him. "Finish your potion."

He scowled slightly at the order, but obeyed, shuddering again as the last of the bitter liquid curled his tongue and offended his taste buds. "What did you think?" he asked as she took the goblet.

She wouldn't meet his eyes. "After last week when Professor Snape was here…" she began and trailed off.

After a minute, comprehending dawned in his eyes as he remembered their banter from last week. A mischievous smile played at his lips, though with her back turned, it was doubtful she could see it.

"Oh, Severus," he replied. "You know, he's very understanding about such things. Of course, we haven't really discussed it—how either of us feels about children. It just never comes up. I suppose we could—ah—make some arrangements though."

Lara's head whipped around, her eyes wide, her face flushed, and for a moment, he was struck by how attractive she was with the heightened color blossoming on her cheeks. For a moment, it was rather like the first time he'd met her, and he could easily believe that he might like her.

He stood, shaking the thoughts from his head. "Am I done?" he asked.

She shook her head and then nodded. "Yes, of course," she replied, sounding vaguely flustered.

As he walked past her, she cleared her throat, and he paused, turning to look at her again.

"Are…" she began, then swallowed. "Are you and… Professor Snape…"

For a second, he considered how best to answer that question, attempting to formulate a response that considered all the possible angles, particularly the offer Severus had made regarding the lie about his address. "He really isn't my type, you know," he said finally, and then walked quickly out the door before she could ask him what he meant.

* * *

_A/N: See? I didn't abandon this one either!_

_It is, however, going on hiatus for a while now. Because this story runs parallel to Tomorrow We May Die, there's a sepcial problem in writing both of themthey're so wrapped up in one another that about the time I get on a roll with one, I have to stop and catch the other one up, since they really have had to build off each other up to this point. I found myself contemplating a hurried ending to one or the other so I could get back to writing, and I finally stepped outside my self-imposed box and realized that I could salvage them both by separating them in time a bit. There's room in both fics for large time jumps, so I'm finally going to take advantage of them._

_I fully intend to pick up this story again after I get a few more chapters of Tomorrow upat the moment, I'm looking at maybe a month-long hiatus in updates of this story, provided I can keep my muse interested in Tomorrow. In the mean time, rest assured that no great progress is being made with the Ministry of Magic, but there are no substantial offenses either. Things have reached a temporary plateau for Lupinabout damn time, yes?_

_Cecelle and Silverthreads: I left myself two mile-wide openings here for a love interest, and I really intend to use one of them when I pick back up again._

_Cecelle: thanks regarding Lara. She's a very complex character in my mind, and I'm trying hard not to let her become too likable or unlikable._

_Cecelle and duj: yes, Sevvie has come a long way, hasn't he:smirks:_

_Shavaineth: thank you! It's a very fine line between drama and angst-whoring and I'm glad to know I'm walking it well ;)_

_HPROX: LOL! I thought four feet worth of bathroom was pretty good! I think that's bigger than my bathroom, actually. :ponders: Thanks for your comments, anyway! I'm glad you enjoy coming along on the emotional roller coaster rides!_

_Neotoma: Thanks for your comments! I think you are absolutely right about Snape and Lupin and the offer for the lie. I envision Snape as having better things to worry about than what people think of him._

_hopgoblen: thanks for your comments. I'm glad you're enjoying and I appreciate the encouragement._

_Thanks as always to everyone for reading, and especially thanks to the lovely LariLee for her marvelous beta skills. If there's anything left wrong, I take full responsibility._

_Oh, and since I haven't mentioned it lately... I still don't own HP._


	8. Chapter 8: Progress

**Chapter 8: Progress**

A/N: This chapter occurs between chapters 37 and 38 of For Tomorrow We May Die.

_Monday, 14 October_

"All right, I think you're done now," Lara said as Remus shrugged gratefully back into his robe. He didn't know which was worse—that he had to go through this or that he was actually beginning to get used to it. As he settled on the chair to pull his socks and shoes back on, he glanced up at Lara from the corner of his eye. She was politely busying herself with paperwork while he dressed.

"Thank you," he said a bit stiffly as he finally stood, attempting to hold his head up. The entire situation seemed to shave a good twenty years off his confidence every time he walked into her office, and he did not appreciate the youth charm at all. It was all he could do to maintain a polite respect with her.

"You're most welcome, Remus," she replied, snapping shut the folder that she'd been reading through. "We'll see you tomorrow at eight o'clock for your dose of Wolfsbane, then?"

He nodded.

"Have a good evening," she said brightly, opening the door, and he stepped out into the corridor, taking a deep breath.

By the time he emerged into the waiting room, he had regained most of his composure-- enough that he couldn't help a chuckle when he heard a familiar voice saying, "But Mum! That's the _girls'_ bathroom!"

His eyes swept the room until he found a frazzled-looking Diana Murphy with Robbie in her arms and Edward protesting loudly as she attempted to catch him single-handedly. Remus smiled, leaning against the wall as Edward danced out of Diana's reach once again.

"Come _on_, Edward," she urged, attempting to catch him once more.

Remus was torn between a sense of duty that would have urged him to help Diana and a certain sense of commiseration with Edward. Perhaps it was because he was still smarting a bit from the assault to his own pride that marked every visit to the Ministry, but he could quite sympathize with the boy for not wanting to go to the girls' bathroom.

"But I don't even need to go!" Edward whined. "Can't I just wait here?"

"No," Diana said firmly. "You're too young to stay here alone."

"But Mu-u-um!"

"Edward, please."

"Why can't I stay out here?"

"I told you—you're too young. Now come on."

Edward looked around quickly, as though searching for inspriation, and Remus knew precisely when the boy's eyes landed on him. "Remus can stay with me!" he announced.

Diana closed her eyes, her lips moving slightly. After a moment, she drew a breath. "I'm sorry," she said in his direction.

Remus smiled at her. "No need," he replied. "If it will help the situation, I don't mind staying here with Edward for a few minutes."

"Yes!" Edward replied loudly, and Diana gave him a stern look.

"I wouldn't ask you to—"

"I'm offering," Remus replied. "If you're not comfortable leaving your son with a stranger, I understand of course, but it's really no bother."

"Please, Mum?" Edward asked. "I swear I'll be good! And I'll clean my room as soon as I get home!"

Remus scrubbed a hand over his face to keep from laughing aloud. It was enough to make him grin that Edward was so adamant about it, even if it did have much more to do with his not wanting to join his mum than an actual desire to stay with Remus.

"I'll eat my vegetables for the rest of the month!" Edward promised, and this time Remus couldn't help a chuckle.

"Sounds like a good deal to me," he commented with a grin.

Diana was looking at Edward skeptically, then glanced up at Remus again. "You're sure you don't mind?"

"Not at all," Remus replied. Edward was all but bouncing with excitement.

"I'll only be a minute," Diana said. "I just have to—"

Remus held up a hand to stop her. He wasn't interested in the intimate details of what she was going to do in the ladies' room.

"You remember your promise, Edward," Diana warned. "If I hear a peep out of you, you're going to regret it."

"I promise!" Edward announced, sitting in the nearest chair, his eyes wide. Remus was skeptical of any child, particularly any boy, who looked that innocent.

"I'll be back in a few minutes," Diana said, and Remus waved her on.

"We'll be right here." As she disappeared into the hall, Remus sank into the chair beside Edward.

Shortly after Diana had departed, Edward turned his big brown eyes towards Remus. "My mum is really scared of leaving me alone," he said.

"I think most mums are scared of leaving their kids alone," Remus replied.

"Yeah, I guess so," Edward said, looking down. "But I think my mum's scareder than most mums are. I think she thinks it's her fault that I got bit and Dad died."

Remus blinked at the boy, slightly taken aback. "Why do you think that?" he asked.

Edward shrugged, then extended his arm suddenly, pushing up his sleeve. "That's where I got bit," he said, pointing to a pair of jagged scars that stretched from the inside of his wrist nearly to his elbow. "I got dragged halfway across the street," he explained. "I've got scars on my knees and back, too."

Remus opened his mouth, then closed it again, not really knowing what to say. Edward didn't seem to think the one-sided conversation was awkward at all, though.

"My dad came running out, and he knocked the werewolf off me, and it turned on him instead. Ripped his ear off." Edward glanced at the door, then lowered his voice. "Mum doesn't know that."

"How old were you when you were bitten?" Remus asked quietly.

"Four," Edward replied matter-of-factly. He looked down at his shoes suddenly. "It was my fault, you know. I wasn't supposed to open the gate, but I did. Mum had went back inside for something. I don't know. But I opened the gate and there was a werewolf on the other side."

Remus' head was swimming, and he was struggling to find the right thing to say, but Edward changed the subject again, just as abruptly as before.

"Do you like Miss Lara?"

What kind of question was that? Remus was sure that he was supposed to respond to that in a way that made it clear that Edward was to be polite and respectful to Lara Berkely, but something prevented him from simply lying. At the moment, Remus did not like Lara very much. Luckily, Edward didn't seem to need an actual answer from him on this matter, either.

"I don't like Miss Lara," he said matter-of-factly. "She doesn't even treat me like a little kid. She acts like I don't know _anything_."

Remus was torn between feeling a certain obligation to defend Lara and not feeling any particular desire to do so. Finally, he settled for neutral ground. "Perhaps you should mention that to her."

"Why?" Edward asked, drawing his knees to his chest.

"I don't think she realizes when she's doing that," Remus replied carefully.

"Does she treat you like a little kid who doesn't know anything?"

Remus snorted softly. "Sometimes," he admitted. _And that's on a good day._

The door opened and Diana reappeared, her eyes darting across the room worriedly. Remus waved slightly at her, and she hurried to the chairs where they were sitting, looking relieved. "Did he behave himself?" she asked, giving her son a stern look, but there was something else behind the sternness that Remus couldn't quite read.

"Yeah," Edward replied, sounding a bit miffed.

With a slight chuckle, Remus nodded his agreement.

"Thank you," Diana said, smiling a bit. "You've been much more helpful than was necessary."

Remus stood, a smile lingering on his face. "It's no trouble at all," he assured her. He knew he should leave, but for a reason he couldn't quite identify, he wasn't particularly eager to be back to headquarters. At least she didn't seem too eager for him to be off either.

"Hey, Mum! Can Remus come to dinner?" Edward asked suddenly, and both Remus and Diana stared at him blankly for a moment, then their eyes met again and they were talking over each other.

"Oh, I er… um…"

"I'm sure Remus has better things to do…"

"Well, actually, I don't, but I wouldn't want to impose…"

"It wouldn't be any imposition at all, but I don't want you to feel obligated…"

"Oh, no. I wouldn't. I mean…"

"This is very awkward."

"Yes, it is."

Edward was looking back and forth between them with great interest, and Diana gave him a dirty look, then cleared her throat. "Would you like to come for dinner some time?" she asked. "I'd love the opportunity to repay you for your kindness."

"I…er…" He glanced at Edward, who was looking expectantly at him, then glanced at Robbie, who was looking warily at him. "I'd like that," he said finally. Diana smiled.

"Tonight?" Edward asked, and Diana looked as though she were about to scold her son, then seemed to change her mind as she looked at Remus again.

"Tonight?" she suggested. "I was planning a roast."

"All right," Remus agreed, even as he wondered what he was doing. She looked a bit surprised, then nodded.

"All right," she said. "I'll, um… I'll see you around six?"

"All right," he agreed, suddenly struck by the realization that the last time he'd felt this nervous he'd been attempting to ask Rebecca Morrison to spend Valentine's Day in Hogsmeade with him when he was fourteen. _You are __not fourteen anymore,_ he told himself firmly. _Get a grip._ "Can I bring something?"

"Er…" she faltered, and half-looked at Edward before seeming to take hold of herself. "It isn't necessary," she replied.

"Ice cream," Edward interrupted, matter-of-factly.

Remus and Diana both looked at him. "Ice cream?" Remus repeated.

"Edward!" Diana gasped, sounding scandalized and amused.

Edward smiled the sort of charming grin that only a seven-year-old boy could convincingly pull off and swung his feet. "Just a suggestion."

Remus chuckled and looked at Diana again. "Any particular kind of ice cream?" he asked.

When Diana didn't answer, Edward filled in the silence for her. "Chocolate raspberry."

Diana's lip was twitching and she looked as though she was trying hard not to laugh. Remus wasn't even trying.

"Chocolate raspberry it is, then," he said. "I'll see you in a few hours then?"

She nodded, and shifted Robbie to her hip, moving an escaping tendril of hair from her face. "I'm looking forward to it."

"Mum…"

"Hush, Edward. You've said enough."

"But…"

"I said to hush."

"But, _Mum…_"

"Edward…"

"I think I'll leave you to the rest of your afternoon," Remus said, deciding it was an excellent time to make his departure before a certain boy got in trouble again.

"_Mum!_" Edward said urgently.

"I told you to shut your mouth and—"

Remus was halfway out the door when he heard Edward interrupt her.

"But Remus doesn't know where we live!"

Remus stopped suddenly and closed his eyes. _Smooth,_ he thought dryly. _Takes a seven-year-old kid to point out the obvious._ He turned back into the waiting room slowly, not quite meeting Diana's eyes. She wasn't quite meeting his either.

"Erm, yes…" She deposited Robbie into Edward's lap. "Hold your brother," she commanded, and Edward wrapped his arms happily around a squirming Robbie while Diana looked at a scrap of parchment she'd pulled out of the massive handbag that she carried. She hastily scrawled something on it, then handed it to Remus. He glanced at it, then smiled sheepishly again.

"Six," he said.

"Yes," she replied. "I'll see you tonight…"

"Enjoy your afternoon."

"You too."

As he headed for the door again, he heard her hiss to Edward, "Don't you _ever_ do that to me again, young man. Is that clear?"

Remus was still chuckling when he reached the street entrance.

* * *

At five till six that evening, he stood outside a small house that looked to be in desperate need of a bit of minor repair work. One shutter hung askew from its hinges, grass and weeds threatened to overtake the stone walkway, three pickets were broken on the fence and two more were missing altogether. The paint was peeling slightly on the trim, and there was a board nailed hastily over one of the steps to the terrace.

In one hand, he held a container of ice cream and a bottle of cabernet—he had his doubts about the wine, but the only person he might have asked for advice on the matter was Severus, and he didn't really have any pressing desire to explain to Severus Snape why he needed wine to go with a roast. So, he'd made his best guess. Red wine to go with red meat, and all red wines looked largely the same to him.

In the other hand, he held a bouquet of chrysanthemums, feeling extraordinarily foolish and more than a little guilty. He'd spent far more on the wine and flowers than he should have, particularly considering he still owed Severus twenty galleons for last month's Wolfsbane. And as he thought about the flimsy excuse that he'd offered to Molly for not being at headquarters for dinner tonight, he felt a wave of something akin to nausea sweep over him. For a man who wasn't doing anything wrong, he was certainly doing a fair job of acting like he was hiding something.

Taking a deep breath, he let himself in the gate, cringing at the high-pitched squeal as rusted hinges protested at the use. Diana Murphy apparently had better things to do than make minor repairs around the exterior of her house, but she was going to regret it if she let them go for very long. It was tempting to lubricate that hinge—a simple spell would be sufficient and would take care of the horrendous noise—but he firmly told himself that he would do no such thing. Particularly not as he was arriving for dinner.

He walked along the path, his eyes darting back and forth from the dying grass to a small burst of color under one windowsill to the warm glow from within the house. When he reached the door, he hesitated, then knocked.

"Remus is here!" The shout was accompanied by a noise not unlike how Remus imagined a herd of hippogriffs would sound. The door swung inward, and a grinning Edward was looking up at him. "Did you bring ice cream?" he asked.

"Edward!" Diana appeared a few steps behind her oldest son, bent at the waist and attempting to extricate the hem of her robe from her younger son's hand. Robbie's eyes grew wide, and he only tightened his grip, balling his fists in her robe.

"Good evening," Remus said, addressing Diana over the top of Edward's head.

She straightened, placing one hand on Edward's shoulder and moving him out of her way. "Good evening," she said, smiling.

She looked substantially different than any of the previous times he'd seen her. Her hair was falling around her shoulders, the ends curling slightly just above her waist. Her robe was a rich shade of blue, and neatly pressed, which only made the wrinkles where Robbie's hand had been gripping it that much more obvious. She was wearing makeup, and that Remus could tell it probably spoke of how out of practice she was at applying it. Her eyes seemed brighter, but there were unistakable circles under them and lines at the corners. He would have liked to believe that she was pretty, but she looked tired and frazzled more than anything else. He felt more foolish than ever for bringing flowers.

He offered them anyway. "Thank you for inviting me," he said as she stared at the bouquet as though she'd never seen anything quite like it After a moment, she literally shook herself and took the flowers.

"Come in," she invited, stepping aside, nearly tripping over Robbie, who had attached himself to her left leg at knee level. Remus instinctively snaked out an arm to steady her, but she obviously had a bit of practice with this sort of thing. She righted herself, shifted the flowers to her left hand and used her right to disentangle herself from her son.

"Come on, Remus!" Any thoughts he had of Diana were quickly preempted as Edward grabbed his hand and pulled him through the house. He found himself in the kitchen, offering the box of ice cream to Edward, who stashed it in the bottom of the pantry. "Mum put a charm on it to keep it cold," Edward explained, and Remus fought a grin.

"Smart mum," he said, as though Chill Charms didn't exist in every magical kitchen in the world so far as he knew.

"She's very smart," Edward said. "Does that need to go in here too?"

Remus looked at the bottle of wine Edward was pointing at and frowned slightly. He didn't _think_ reds were usually served chilled. "No," he said after a moment. "It stays out."

"You can put it over here," Edward said, pointing to a spotless counter. As Remus placed the bottle towards the back, Edward grinned. "I cleaned off that one. Mum's been making me help her clean all afternoon, and I took care of Robbie while she got ready," he announced.

"You must do a lot to help your mum," Remus said, oddly amused that Edward was telling him these things. He was apparently quite out of practice at having a conversation with a child.

"Edward, are you boring Remus to death?" Diana had put the flowers somewhere and had Robbie on her hip again, his head resting against her shoulder, thumb in his mouth. As soon as he saw Remus, his eyes got as big as saucers again and he shrank against his mother, tightening his grip on her robe.

"No," Edward replied, pouting a bit.

"No," Remus concurred. "We were just discussing the joys of housework."

Edward grinned up at him, and Remus winked in return.

"Well, here, Edward. Take your brother and go play."

"But I want to help in here…"

"Just _go_," Diana said, and Edward sighed, reaching for Robbie.

"Come on," he muttered as Diana worked herself loose from Robbie once more and placed him on the floor. Robbie's lower lip quivered for a moment, then he took Edward's hand and toddled after his brother, still casting doubtful looks in Remus' direction.

When the kitchen door shut, Diana sighed and turned towards Remus again. "I'm sorry he keeps bothering you like that," she said, shaking her head. "He isn't usually this outgoing."

"I don't mind," Remus replied, offering a smile. He glanced around the kitchen. "Is there anything I can do to help you?"

"Er…" She glanced around as well, then shook her head. "I got the roast on a little late," she said apologetically. "We were a little late getting home."

"Is everything all right?" he asked, his smile slipping a bit.

"Oh, yes," she said, shaking her head. "It's just… you know how things are at the Ministry. I'm afraid that Edward really fights Lara, and… it just makes it worse."

Remus nodded. "Of couse," he said quietly. "I'm sure it's hard for him to understand." _And impossible for you to understand_. He had no doubt that Diana was a loving and supportive mother, but she didn't seem to grasp the situation entirely. And perhaps that was just as well. As difficult as it was to endure some of those indignities, he supposed it might be more difficult still to be fully aware that a loved one was enduring them.

She was studying him carefully. "I forget that you know exactly what he's going through," she said softly. "Forgive me. I don't mean to sound insensitive."

He shrugged uncomfortably, no reply forming in his mind or on his tongue. She gestured towards the table, and he sat.

"If your experience is anything like Edward's, it's simply appalling," she said quietly. "Half the time, I don't know whether I want to scream or cry."

He looked away. "Just be there when _he _wants to scream or cry," he advised softly.

Her hand covered his, squeezing slightly. Her hand was small and frail-looking, but there was a gentle strength in her thin fingers. "Is someone there when you want to scream and cry?" she asked.

A lump rose in his throat as he looked at her; after a moment, he turned his hand over and squeezed hers in return, forcing an affable smile. "I have my friends," he replied as lightly as he could.

Her hand lingered atop his for a moment longer, then she stood suddenly. "You're very lucky then," she said, moving briskly towards the stove. As she opened the oven door, a savory aroma enveloped him, and his stomach growled in appreciation.

"It smells wonderful," he offered as she straightened, shutting the door again.

She smiled. "It'll only be about fifteen more minutes," she assured him. "Do you want something to drink? Tea or—"

Whatever would have followed the 'or' was pre-empted by a shout, a loud crash, and an ear-splitting wail. Remus drew his wand and headed for the door, but he was a good five steps behind Diana, who was outpacing him at a dead run.

"Edward!" she screamed, tearing through the hallway. "Robbie! Are you all right! What happened?" She disappeared into another door, and Remus followed her—she was already wading through a scattered mess of books, broken glass and shelves to get to Robbie, who was screeching miserably at the edge of the mess. Edward was standing against the wall, pale and wide-eyed.

"It was an accident…" Edward began as Diana scooped Robbie into her arms.

"What happened?" she demanded, picking her way back out of the rubble. "Are you hurt?"

Edward blinked rapidly. "No… He was chewing on my Morholt card! I took it away from him and put it on the shelf. It isn't my fault he tried to climb up to get it!"

"He _climbed_ the shelf?" Diana repeated, her voice suddenly low and eerily calm. "You let your brother _climb_ the bookshelf?"

Remus glanced at the mess on the floor, then at Robbie, who had resumed sucking his thumb and clinging to Diana's shoulder.

"I didn't—"

"I can't leave you alone for five minutes!" she shouted. "I can't even trust you to watch your brother while I cook dinner!"

"I'm sorry—" There were tears in Edward's eyes now, and Remus busied himself with righting the bookcase.

"I can't be everywhere at once, Edward!" Diana yelled. "I have to have a little help from you, and I can't even trust you to keep your brother safe in our own house!"

Edward sank to the floor, drawing his knees up to his chest. Tears were rolling down his face. "I said I was sorry," he whispered.

"Robbie could have been hurt!" Diana snapped. "He could have been killed!"

"I'm sorry…"

"Diana," Remus said quietly, placing a hand on her arm. She whipped her head around to look at him. "It was an accident."

She tightened her grip on Robbie and leaned her face against the top of his head. "I know," she whispered. "I just can't be everywhere at once. I can't do everything at once. What kind of mother can't even keep her own children safe?"

"One who is human," Remus replied, patting her arm. He glanced across the room again, where Edward was still sitting against the wall with his head on his arms. "It's all right," he said, gently squeezing her arm. "They're both all right, no lasting damage. We'll clean up the mess after dinner."

She nodded, then looked at Edward again.

"Let me talk to him?" Remus asked, and after a brief hesitation, she nodded, but didn't move.

"Edward?" she asked. He lifted his head and looked at her through tear-filled, red-rimmed eyes. "I love you," she assured him, and Edward sniffled.

"I love you too."

She took Robbie out of the room, leaving Remus alone with Edward. Remus stepped gingerly through the mess, then knelt beside Edward, placing a hand on his shoulder. "Are you all right?" he asked.

Edward nodded slightly, wiping his face on his sleeve.

"None of the glass cut you?" Remus pressed, settling onto the floor.

Edward shook his head.

"Scared you, didn't it?"

"I didn't mean it to happen," Edward said suddenly.

Remus squeezed his shoulder gently. "I know," he said. "And your mum knows too."

"She's angry with me."

"She's scared. You and your brother could have been hurt."

"I really didn't mean—" Edward began again, then sank his head into his arms again, shaking. Remus rubbed his back a bit awkwardly, looking at the mess again.

"It's all right," Remus assured him.

"I didn't mean for my dad to get killed either," Edward whispered.

Remus gently squeezed the back of his neck. "Of course you didn't."

"That was my fault too, though."

"No, it wasn't," Remus said firmly.

"Mum thinks so."

Remus didn't know what to say to that. He wanted to insist that Diana thought no such thing, but he couldn't be sure that it wasn't the truth. After a pause that was far too long for any denial he might make to sound convincing, Remus cleared his throat. "I'm sure your mum knows that it wasn't your fault," he said, cursing himself for not sounding sure.

Edward said nothing, and Remus finally gathered the boy into his arms, hugging him hard against his chest. Edward hugged him back fiercely. After a moment, Remus let go, and Edward pulled away, swiping his sleeve across his face again.

Remus stood, drawing his wand and looking at the mess once again. "_Fragmenemoveo_," he said, sweeping his wand towards the corner. The broken bits of glass, porcelain and ceramic sifted out of the rubble and piled into the corner. Pocketing his wand again, Remus nodded at the mess that was left. "Why don't we work on this until dinner?" he suggested, and Edward nodded, still sniffling.

"Just be careful. There might still be broken glass."

"All right."

They worked quietly for a few minutes, Edward's sniffling growing less frequent as he directed his efforts towards putting books back on the shelf. They had nearly picked up all the scattered books when Diana reappeared in the doorway, Robbie clinging to her. She seemed to have given up even trying to remove herself from his grip.

"You didn't have to do this," she said, leaning against the door.

Remus shrugged. "It's all right," he replied. Edward was standing against the shelf, still looking subdued, his eyes still red and his nose still swollen. Remus reached for the boy's shoulder, pulling him forward. "Besides, I think it helped us calm down a bit."

Diana nodded. "Dinner's ready," she said, and Remus followed her back to the kitchen.

* * *

_A/N: And here you all thought I'd abandoned this story entirely ;)_

_Silverthreads: Thank you for your comments, as always. It always thrills me to have a writer I admire leaving comments on my stories._

_hopgoblen: Thank you! I'm glad you're enjoying, even if it does bring back difficult memories._

_yukka: Thanks for your encouragement! I promise I won't be abandoning anyone any time soon ;)_

_duj: I have to admit that this story is one of my favorites to write as well. I love exploring the issues in it, and there is simply so much emotional content to play with that I'm like a kid in a candy store. You're absolutely right about the nature of the condition-- it's not a superficial discrimination, but a justifiable fear, which makes the victim all the more complex. _

_JMM: You're probably not reading, but thank you for your comments. I'm not sure precisely what prompted them, but I do agree with you. Or rather, I tend to think it was very irresponsible for Dumbledore to hire Lupin in the first place, knowing what he knew._

_As always, thanks for reading, and more thanks still for leaving comments. And blessed be larilee for taking the time to beta for me._


	9. Chapter 9: Not a Bad Lie

**Chapter 9: Not a Bad Lie**

Dinner passed without further mishap. The roast was edible, though that was about all Remus could really say for it—it was dry and stringy, largely tasteless with overcooked carrots and potatoes and served with bread that was scorched and peas that were too salty. The wine he'd chosen did nothing for the meal, and had a vaguely stale flavor to it, which was probably what he should have expected from a cabernet he'd paid less than a Galleon for. Diana was an interesting conversationalist when she was paying him any heed, which wasn't often as most of her time was spent trying to coax bites of mashed peas and carrots down Robbie's throat. Edward tried valiantly to entertain his guest, and Remus found himself simultaneously amused and impressed with his attempts, and it was difficult not to laugh at inappropriate times. The ice cream had melted somewhat, but it was still easily the most palatable part of the meal, and made slightly more so by the gusto with which Edward devoured his bowl.

A little after seven, Robbie began to yawn, his head lolling to one side and his eyes drooping heavily. As Diana lifted him from his high chair, Robbie returned his thumb to his mouth—a gesture that Remus was quickly coming to associate with the boy. A part of him chafed at the way Diana coddled him and he wanted to tell her that she was doing the boy no favors by letting him cling to her so, but another part of his mind reminded him that he knew nothing about children to begin with and these were her children anyway, which made it anything but his business how she chose to raise her kids.

"I think it's someone's bedtime," she said, cradling Robbie against her. "It's been a long day."

"Of course," Remus said, looking around and suddenly torn between wanting to take advantage of such a convenient reason to leave and feeling as though he needed to stay and help with the dishes. To his shame, he was leaning heavily towards using the excuse to leave. "I shouldn't have stayed so late. I'll just—"

"No, no," she interrupted. "Don't give it a second thought. It isn't late at all. I'll only be a minute putting him down." Remus cursed himself inwardly for hedging instead of just excusing himself. As Diana took Robbie from the room, Remus stood and gave the table a rueful look, then began gathering dishes. This was not how he would have chosen to spend a romantic evening.

Of course, if he'd been expecting anything different, he had only himself to blame. He wasn't twenty anymore, and Diana had two children. _Which part of that did you fail to consider when you came here expecting to—_To what? What had he been expecting anyway?

Not a tumble in bed, really. He'd never been one to expect sex, which meant that any time he'd ever gotten it had been a pleasant surprise. Unlike Sirius, who had never so much as smiled at a woman without half-expecting her to fling herself at him in return. It would have been nice, but he wasn't exactly disappointed that the evening hadn't progressed to that point.

Maybe it was a decent meal that he'd been anticipating, and if tonight's fare was any indication, Diana Murphy wasn't much of a cook. He was sure that the dinner had been nutritional, but it was also quite forgettable. He didn't like the idea that he'd come here specifically anticipating an exotic and delicious meal, though. That sounded far too shallow for him to be comfortable with the idea.

More likely, it had been an escape that he'd been looking for. A few hours of pleasant conversation with someone who didn't know the Order of the Phoenix existed, someone who wasn't a Weasley, and someone who didn't need anything from him. His eyes drifted back to Edward, who was helping to clear the table. Edward was a nice kid, and an interesting one as far as kids went. Remus liked kids well enough. He wasn't sure he liked kids who came attached to a woman he was trying to flirt with.

And by that token, why was he trying to flirt with Diana anyway? She wasn't pretty, she'd given very little indication that she was witty or smart. She looked haggard, worn, beaten and exhausted, and if there was a quiet strength in her eyes and a ferocity with which she seemed to love her children, those were not things that drew a man to a woman. Besides which, her financial situation seemed roughly as optimistic as his own. He could think of a hundred good reasons to stop pretending like he was interested in her in any capacity other than as a distraction. As he scraped mashed peas off Robbie's plate and into the waste bin, he couldn't think of one good reason to carry on with this.

"Thank you for bringing the ice cream," Edward said suddenly, and Remus looked guiltily at him.

"You're welcome, Edward."

"Mum would have tried to bake a cake or something if you hadn't brought it," Edward confided in a low voice. "She isn't a very good cook."

Remus had to fight not to laugh and commiserate, but he couldn't quite bring himself to disagree.

"When my dad was alive, he cooked. He was a chef, you know."

"No, I didn't know," Remus replied, pointing his wand at the sink. As it began filling with hot, sudsy water, he dropped plates gently into the foaming sink.

"He was," Edward replied matter-of-factly as he pulled a chair to the cupboard and climbed on it so he could reach the second shelf. Pulling down three containers, he hopped off the chair again and went back to the table, where he began emptying leftovers into containers. "He owned his own restaurant. Mum tried to run it after he died, but she didn't know what she was doing."

Remus raised an eyebrow as he washed one of the plates. "That's not a very nice thing to say."

"Mum said so," Edward answered. "She said she thought all she'd have to do was balance the books, and she could do that, but she didn't know anything about cooking and the kitchens. She found a new chef, but he wasn't as good, and people quit coming to the restaurant because she's a Mudblood."

"Edward," Remus chastised. "That isn't a very nice word either."

Edward looked vaguely surprised to discover this. "Why not?" he asked. "My mum's one. She said that too."

If Remus' eyes got any wider, he was afraid they'd fall out of his head. What kind of mother said those things to a child?

"I heard her talking to my Aunt Ruth—that's my dad's sister. Mum said that the restaurant would never make it because a Mudblood was running it and the Purebloods wouldn't eat there. So she sold it to Aunt Ruth, because she's a pureblood, and Aunt Ruth makes lots of money off it and gives Mum some of it to support us."

Remus' head was spinning. He rinsed the plates he'd just washed and set them into the drying rack, trying to sort through everything Edward was telling him.

"And Mum's family won't even talk to us, but that's my fault. They wanted Mum to put me in St. Mungo's and come to live with them, but she wouldn't do it."

"Edward!" Diana had obviously returned. "Remus doesn't want to hear all our family gossip."

"Sorry," Edward muttered as he finished dumping peas into a container to store them.

"Go play," she told him. "And if you play quietly, you can stay up until eight-thirty tonight."

The grin that flickered across Edward's face was enough to suddenly remind Remus again that the boy was only seven, even if he did seem quite a bit older most of the time. He darted out of the room, and Diana shook her head, then took the pot Remus was cleaning out of his hand.

"And you go sit over there," she ordered, pointing at the table. "You've done enough cleaning in my house for one evening."

"I don't mind helping," Remus protested, but Diana quelled him with a stern look.

"_I_ care," she informed him. "Now go."

He hesitated, then obeyed, seating himself at the table while she rolled up her sleeves. After a moment, the silence between them became awkward and oppressive, and Remus was once again casting about for an excuse to leave.

"This evening really hasn't turned out the way I was hoping," she said suddenly. "I was looking forward to having you here because—please don't take this the wrong way, Remus—but do you know how long it's been since I've talked to anyone who speaks grown-up?"

Remus chuckled softly. "How old is Edward?" he asked, and she smiled at him, shaking her head.

"He'll be eight this spring," she replied. "I don't know if I can't wait for him to get a little older or if I want him to stay this age forever."

"He takes his duty as man of the house very seriously, doesn't he?" Remus asked. Diana's face darkened.

"His uncle told him that right after my husband's funeral," she said quietly, then lowered her voice in imitation of a man. "'You're the man of the house now, Edward, so you have to take care of your mum.' Idiot. He was only five, but he took that to heart." She shook her head and sighed. "And I hate it that my little boy thinks he has to act like a grown-up," she said. "And I don't know what I'd do if he didn't."

Remus stood again and crossed the kitchen. He came to a halt beside her and picked up a cup towel. "Am I allowed to dry dishes at least?" he asked, his hand hovering over the drain board.

She hesitated, then nodded.

"Don't you have anyone to help you?" he asked as he rubbed a plate dry.

She gained a renewed interest in the pot she was scrubbing. "My family tried to get me to move back with them after Robert died—that was my husband, Robert. That's what Edward was telling you. They wanted me to put him in St. Mungo's, in as much as they knew what St. Mungo's was, and to come back and live with them." She looked at Remus and frowned. "Will you think horribly of me if I tell you that I considered it?" she asked quietly.

His immediate reaction was that yes, knowing that she'd considered it did actually lower his opinion of her somewhat, but after the initial sympathetic indignation on Edward's behalf passed, he reminded himself that he couldn't even fathom what it must have been like for her. His silence seemed to divulge his doubts, though, as Diana looked away from him.

"I was eight months pregnant," she whispered. "I've never really been a part of this world anyway, and I didn't have many friends I'd be leaving behind. I'd lost my husband, and I didn't know how I was going to make it without him. I was every bit as terrified of Edward as my parents were. I didn't know what to expect, I didn't know if I'd be able to manage it. I didn't know if I'd be able to feed my new baby, or take care of Edward properly…" She shook her head. "I thought about it carefully, and I nearly did it. I just didn't think I'd be able to live with myself if I actually went through with it, though."

_And doesn't that count for something?_ Remus asked himself. Even if she'd thought about it, it had to matter that she hadn't actually done it. "I'm sure it wasn't an easy decision to make," he said sincerely.

"It was, actually," she said. "All I had to do was imagine myself telling Edward and I knew I couldn't do it. Then my mother tried to get me to give Robbie to her to take care of, and I thought about that, too. I came closer to that one than I did to giving up Edward, actually, but how could I give up one son and not the other? Besides, I was pretty sure that Robbie would be a wizard too, and I wouldn't wish being dropped into this world on anyone. My mother didn't approve of my decision, though, and she doesn't really talk to me anymore."

She laughed suddenly, and shrugged a bit. "So, no. I don't really have anyone to help me. I don't know if Edward will be able to go to Hogwarts or not, but if he does, then I can probably find someone to help with Robbie while I find a job at least. Right now that's out of the question, because no one will take Edward and I can't leave him alone. But if all goes well, perhaps I'll be able to start building a better life for them in another four years. And if Edward can't go to Hogwarts…"

"If Dumbledore is still Headmaster, I'm sure Edward will get to go," Remus assured her. "After all, he accepted me, and that was before the Wolfsbane."

Diana nodded. "I hope so," she whispered. "I don't know how much longer I can do this." Before he could respond, she shook her head firmly and smiled a forced smile. "Listen to me," she said, rolling her eyes. "I finally get my conversation with someone who isn't one of my kids and all I can talk about are the kids. What about you? I feel like you know practically everything there is to know about me but I don't know anything about you."

_That's because there's very little worth telling,_ he thought ruefully. Aloud, he said, "Hrm, let me think. I'm not very interesting, actually."

"Do you work?" she asked, and he felt a stab of worthlessness. In the last fifteen years, that had been the single biggest obstacle to establishing a relationship with any woman. It was odd, most women weren't really overly concerned that he was a werewolf—at least, the ones he'd told hadn't been—but when they found out that except for his year of teaching he'd never held a job for more than four months, women tended to find a hundred and one reasons not to want anything more to do with him.

"I do some bookkeeping and maintenance on an old house for some friends," he began, attempting to hedge the question a bit. Even as disinterested as he was in Diana—and in the past ten minutes he wasn't sure that his opinion hadn't changed a bit once again—he didn't want her to reject him out of hand. It grated at his pride every time that happened. "See to the repairs and do odd jobs and…" He trailed off, then shook his head. He'd never been much of a liar. He could avoid uncomfortable questions when he had to, but not this.

"No," he said finally, concentrating heavily on the cup he was drying now. "I don't work and I can't really convince myself that I do. I have friends who are very generous, both in allowing me to live with them and allowing me to delude myself into believing that I earn my keep there, but I don't have a job."

She swiped her hand against her robe and put an arm around his back, hugging him more tightly than he would have thought possible for such a frail-looking woman. "If anyone understands that, I do," she said as she drew away again. "I've seen you with another man at the Ministry—he was there after that first full moon. Is he a brother or…?"

"Severus?" Remus asked, chuckling a bit. "He's a friend, though he doesn't seem to like to admit it."

"Is he the one you live with?"

Remus faltered, knowing he was treading on dangerous ground. "Yeah," he lied, as casually as he could. He needed to avoid questions about where he lived.

She was finishing the last pot, and as she balanced it to dry, she plucked the towel from his hand. "The rest of them can dry like they are," she said, draping the towel over the dishes. "Do you want something to drink?" she asked. "I'm sorry I don't have anything better than tea to offer, but…"

"Tea would be fine," Remus replied, smiling. She took down a tea kettle and pointed her wand at it; a heartbeat later it was whistling merrily as she took two cups from the cupboard and dropped a teabag in each.

After another half hour of conversation, Remus was adjusting his opinion of Diana once again. She was a mother, first and foremost, but she was also a witty conversationalist with a dry sense of humor and an extensive knowledge of Quidditch. She'd been a Ravenclaw, and Remus was surprised to find that she was more than a decade younger than him.

"What?" she'd asked teasingly when he expressed his astonishment. "I know I look old but surely not _that_ old."

"No," he'd rushed to assure her. "It's just that Edward is nearly eight and…"

"I was a child bride. Far too young to get married, and too young to be a mother. Never did like to be told I was too young for something."

She was only twenty-seven, and in his mind, that was too young to have such a heavily lined face, but he knew as well as anyone that a hard life could age a person faster than years could account for.

During a lull in their conversation, she tilted her head to one side and frowned a bit.

"What's wrong?" he asked, listening with a frown on his face as well.

"Edward," she replied, standing.

"I don't hear anything."

"Exactly," she replied. "I can usually hear him playing. At the very least I can usually hear him moving around or laughing at whatever book he's reading."

Remus followed her out of the kitchen and into the living room, and stopped right behind her. Edward was laying in the middle of the floor, his head resting on an open book and his eyes closed.

"I guess someone was tired," Remus commented softly.

"I guess so," she replied, watching him for a minute more. "I wonder if he'd sleep there all night if I put a blanket over him."

Remus frowned, a still-too-vivid memory of sleeping on the ground in a Ministry cell rising unbidden in his mind. "Why?" he asked.

"I don't want to wake him," she answered quietly.

"Do you think he'd wake if I carried him to his room?"

Diana looked at him. "You don't mind?"

"Not at all."

She nodded and moved aside, and Remus crouched beside the sleeping boy, gathering him into his arms. Edward stirred slightly, but Remus whispered, "Shh, don't wake up." Edward yawned and mumbled something, then settled against Remus' chest. Remus smiled a bit as he rose carefully, holding him.

"This way," Diana said, leading him up the stairs and along a hallway. Edward lay limply in Remus' arms, a comfortable deadweight against him. It was an oddly touching experience and as he leaned down to place Edward in bed, his arms felt rather empty suddenly.

Diana sat on the edge of the bed, gently pulling his shoes off and dropping them on the floor. She studied him for a minute, then smiled. "I don't think it will hurt for him to sleep in his clothes."

"No," Remus agreed, moving him so that Diana could pull the blanket up to his chin. She leaned down and kissed his forehead, then stood, and for a moment, Remus was oddly tempted to do the same. He resisted the temptation, though, and stood as well.

When they were in the hall again, Diana was considering him thoughtfully. "You've been very good to Edward," she said softly.

Remus shrugged a bit. "I suppose I feel for him," he said, then leaned against the wall. "That first night at the Ministry, I was in the cell next to him. I could hear him crying."

Diana placed a hand over her mouth, and tears suddenly spilled down her face. "I don't know if I can leave him there again," she whispered, shaking her head. "I really don't know if I can do it."

Remus reached for her and pulled her into his arms. "Shh," he whispered. "You don't want to wake them."

She leaned into his arms, and he half expected her to start sobbing, but she did not. After a moment, she straightened, and though her eyes were red, they were dry. He let go of her reluctantly, almost disappointed that she didn't need his comfort anymore. "I'm sorry," she whispered, gesturing towards the stairs. "I need to pull myself together, I know, but…"

"It's hard," Remus supplied, and she nodded.

"Very hard," she answered. She led him back to the living room and settled on the sofa, and after a half-heartbeat hesitation, Remus joined her.

"You don't have to avoid the topic, you know," he said quietly. "I told you once before that I didn't mind listening, and I don't."

She laughed humorlessly. "I don't want to talk about it," she replied. "I don't even want to think about it. I want to pretend it doesn't exist at all."

He smiled and nodded, and ached to reach for her again. For a woman he wasn't particularly interest in, she was certainly twisting his heart like a rag. He glanced out the window at the gibbous moon that hung just above the eastern horizon, and very suddenly wondered what it would be like to take a walk in the full moonlight with a woman beside him. He'd never spent much time worrying over what might have been, simply because there was nothing down that road. He could not change the past, and he could not change what had happened thirty years ago, and there had never seemed to be a point speculating about how things might have been different, but suddenly he was.

If he had not been a victim of that bite, where would he be now? The possibilities were endless, but he was fairly sure of one thing—he would not be broke and living off the kindness of others. He might have brought a real bottle of wine tonight, and he'd be offering to take Diana and her sons out somewhere in a few days. It must be nice to have that sort of money, to be able to not worry about where the next meal was coming from, or to be able to face his friends without the knowledge that they were looking after him since he was incapable of looking after himself. Incapable of looking after himself and certainly of looking after a family.

He looked away from Diana abruptly and stood. "I need to go," he told her, and she opened her mouth then shut it quickly.

"Did I say something?" she asked, standing as well. She reached for his hand, and he quickly took a step away.

"No, of course not," he replied. "I just… I need to do some things and…" It sounded like the lame excuse that it was and he cursed himself for not offering a better one.

"Will you come again?" she asked, following him to the door. He paused, gathering his courage to tell her no, but when he turned around his tongue took leave of his mind's influence.

"Perhaps," he replied evasively, even though he had no intention of further encouraging this until and unless he had the means to do it properly. And, given his situation, he had a feeling that would be a very long time indeed.

"You're angry with me, aren't you? Please, Remus, tell me what I said. I didn't mean to upset you and—"

"You didn't upset me," he assured her. "And I'm not angry. It's just getting late and—"

"It isn't even nine!" she interrupted. "Please, just tell me why and I'll leave you be. Please."

He hesitated for a moment then, cursing himself for a thousand times a fool, he smiled his most friendly and comforting smile—the one he had worked so hard to perfect and that he could call up even when he felt least like smiling—and reached for her hand. He lifted her fingers to his lips and brushed a gentle kiss across the backs of her knuckles. "You did nothing wrong," he replied earnestly. "But I have to go. I'm sure I will see you again, very likely within the week."

She laughed suddenly, then nodded. "Good night then," she said.

He let go of her hand. "Good night. And thank you for a lovely evening and a wonderful meal." As he turned and stepped into the night, he thought perhaps he wasn't so bad a liar after all.

* * *

_A/N: All right, we're trying this updating thing again. Honestly, I think I have too much on my plate, and I keep letting things slide._

_silverthreads: thank you for your comments. I'm glad the chapter was believable to you ;)_

_Human Tales: Thank you! I don't know why I am so slow to update this one. I enjoy writing it, too, and the issues I exlore in it are more meaningful to me than the ones I explore in Tomorrow. Thanks for the encouragement._

_Pickledishkiller: Thank you!_

_yukka: Thank you! I really struggle to find a voice for Edward sometimes, but when I hit my stride with him, he's so real to me that it's easy to to write him. I see him very clearly, and in my mind, he is certainly a child, not a mini-adult. I know what you mean about the miniature adults in fanfiction, and in fiction in general, though._

_cecelle: thank you! I'm glad you enjoyed, and, of course, I'm thrilled to hear that the chapter evoked emotion. I've been stunned at the reaction little Edward has gotten, and I love the fact that you feel for him._

_Kim Kotchanski: Thank you! I'm glad you're enjoying._

_hopgoblen: thanks for your comments!_

_Redhairedcat: erm... no. Good catch. I need to edit that out._

_duj: as always, very perceptive comments. There's certainly a healthy measure of fear involved, and though some of it is justified, not all of it is. It's one reason I like the subject matter-- falls neatly into my beloved grey areas._

_unlikely2: Thank you! I'm glad you're enjoying._

_As always, thanks to everyone for reading, and thanks extra times for leaving comments. They're very meaningful to me. And thanks to LariLee, for hers is the thankless job of betaing this stuff. She's awesome!_


	10. Chapter 10: Accomplishment

**Chapter 10: Accomplishment**

True to his predictions, Remus ran into Diana and her children several times in the next week. On Tuesday, they barely spoke as Edward was handed over to Lara. On Friday evening, Remus was too tired from his own transformation to be more than vaguely aware that Diana was there to retrieve Edward. The only reason Remus was there at all was because he was required to report within forty-eight hours of the transformation, which meant that if he didn't appear by the end of the day on Friday, he would be non-compliant, as the Ministry wasn't open on Saturday. Apparently, half the werewolf population of Britain had used the same reasoning, and the waiting room was so crowded that it was standing room only. It was nearly eight when Remus was finally called back and a frazzled-looking Lara deposited a stack of papers in front of him.

"Where did you spend the full moon?" she asked, not a hint of emotion in her voice.

"In the basement at a friend's home."

"Are there witnesses to verify your whereabouts during the full moon?"

He hesitated, then nodded. "Yes." Surely at least one person would be willing to vouch for him.

"Were there any mishaps you would like to report?"

Mishaps? He had the fleeting thought that if there had been a 'mishap', he wasn't sure he would want to report it. Luckily, his conscience was clear as he shook his head. "No."

She scribbled a few more things, then picked up the papers and began reading. "'Remus Lupin, case 33795009. Friday, eighteenth October, nineteen ninety-seven, seven fifty-two p.m. I, Lara Berkeley, of the Department of Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures, have received in good faith a statement from the werewolf identified above. The werewolf claims to have spent the night of the full moon, Thursday seventeenth October, in a basement at a friend's house. He further states that witnesses can verify his whereabouts if called upon to do so, and he reported no mishaps. Do you, Remus J. Lupin, testify under penalty of perjury that these statements are true to the best of your knowledge?"

"Yes," he replied.

"This is a magically binding contract," she told him, handing him the quill and the stack of parchments. "Sign here and here," she said, marking two lines on the paper, "and initial here, here and here."

He looked over the parchment, and apparently took too long because Lara sighed and rubbed her eyes with the heels of her palms. "It just states that you are where you said you were and you didn't attack anyone," she said. "I know you don't like this, Remus, but be honest—have I ever misled you?"

"No."

"If you're being truthful, just sign the papers. There are no hidden caveats that you will regret."

He skimmed the headings on the parchment, thinking about what Severus had said about not signing a Ministry document until he'd read it thoroughly twice and had opinions from Minerva and Albus.

Lara sighed, and sat back, folding her arms.

"Do you want to bring someone else in while I read this?" he asked, looking at her.

Her answer was written all over her face—she just wanted him to sign the damn document so she could get on with her duties, and he did sympathize with her on some level. He truly did. It was already nearly three hours after she should have been able to go home, and there were easily another fifty people in the waiting room still.

"No," she replied. "Take your time."

He read as quickly as he could, and then felt marginally foolish—the document was straightforward, and it said precisely what Lara had said it did. He scrawled his name and initials in the indicated spaces, and she tapped her wand against it. The words illuminated for a moment, and his initials glowed brightly beside each of the statements he had given her. Two of the sets of initials faded into black again, but one continued to glow for nearly a full minute—the initials beside his reply that someone could vouch for his whereabouts did not seem to want to fade into the parchment. Lara tapped her quill on the desk impatiently and watched the parchment as well, and Remus felt his stomach begin to tumble as his mind raced to formulate excuses. At last, the initials faded, and Lara looked at him a bit warily.

"If you opt to use the Wolfsbane and self-restraint during the full moon, you are obligated to report to the Ministry within forty-eight hours and provide us with the location where you spent the moon and a detailed report of any incidents as defined in the Werewolf Code of Conduct on page 85. Further, the werewolf should have witnesses who can and will verify his location during the full moon. These witnesses may or may not be called upon in the event that an incident occurs during a full moon when a werewolf used a self-restraint option. Do you need a new copy of the Code?"

"No," he replied, slightly abashed.

"I would advise you to revisit the sections addressing the rights and responsibilities of a werewolf who opts for self-restraint. I would also advise you to advise whomever you counted as a witness that he or she may be called upon to testify. There were incidents reported during this full moon, and I fully expect that the Ministry will launch a full-scale investigation." She dropped the parchments into his folder and took a deep breath. "I am assuming that the reason the charm hesitated is that you are confident that someone will testify on your behalf, but you have not made specific arrangements. That has been the most common reason for these charms not working properly."

Remus nodded.

"Am I going to have a fight with you for an examination?" Lara asked as she took another paper from his folder.

Remus glanced behind him to find a folding screen dividing the office in half, and his eyes lingered on it for a moment.

"Haven't I convinced you yet that we take suggestions seriously?" Lara asked, gesturing towards the screen.

"I know," he muttered. He still couldn't seem to find the words to explain that it wasn't that the Ministry wasn't responsive enough to the needs of werewolves, but rather that they had to ask for what should have been standards of humane treatment. He stepped behind the screen and looked around; there was a small bed covered with a white sheet and another sheet folded on top of it, and sheets folded on a shelf against the wall. In the corner was a crumpled pile of white linen. He undressed quickly, hesitating on the point of reaching for one of the sheets as he cleared his throat.

Lara's head appeared around the screen, then she gestured towards the bed. "Go on and lie down," she told him. "Cover yourself with the sheet. We are trying to do a bit more to protect your modesty."

He raised an eyebrow, wondering how they would go about 'protecting modesty' if the examination was still necessary. He obeyed though, and was grateful for the covering, however thin. When Lara turned towards him again, she kept her eyes firmly on his face as she placed the open folder on the table beside him.

"Do you have any new injuries?" she asked as she turned his head to one side, her fingers moving his hair back.

"No."

"How are you feeling?"

_How do you think I feel?_ he wondered. "Tired," he replied after a moment.

She patted his face and turned his head the other way, so that he was facing her now. "Me too," she confided as she flicked a fingertip against a cut on his jaw. "Razor?"

His face pinkened as he nodded. Given all the things he ended up enduring with her, it was hard to believe that he would be embarrassed to admit that his hand hadn't been as steady as it should have been.

She continued her exam, folding the sheet down as she looked over shoulders and chest. "You do have a place to stay tonight, don't you?" she asked as she covered him again. She lifted his right hand and turned it over, looking at the palm.

"Yes," he sighed, his eyes drifting shut. All he wanted was to get back to his place to stay and _stay_ there for a few days. She grew quiet, and he put his mind to ignoring her, which proved to be a difficult task at first. After a few minutes, it became easier, and as she folded the sheet back from his feet to reveal his legs from the knee down, he had some success. He was aware when she folded the sheet again, and he held his breath as her fingers moved over his thighs. She didn't fold the sheet back again, though.

"Roll onto your stomach," she instructed, and he shifted, careful to keep the sheet in place. She folded it down, and he felt her hands on his back and shoulders, then a moment later, she covered him again and folded the sheet back from his feet, then warned him before she removed it entirely. The entire examination took barely five minutes, though, and she was in the main part of the office again while he dressed.

"Do you have any wounds on your lower torso?" she asked as he was pulling on his socks. He paused for a moment, then raised an eyebrow.

"No," he replied plaintively.

"I'll just take your word on that one." When he emerged from the screen, she had his folder sitting on the desk, three pages on top of it. "You'll need to give these to the guard before you leave," she told him, indicating two of the pages, "and this one goes to the receptionist."

He glanced at the clock. He'd been in there nearly ten minutes. "Is this how long it takes everyone you see?"

"You go a little faster than most, actually," Lara replied, opening her file cabinet. "Of course, most of the self-restraints go a bit faster. If they can afford the Wolfsbane, they are either adults with education and jobs, or they have someone in that position taking care of them. It's the ones who stayed with us and who have siblings or cousins or friends coming to claim them that take the most time." She paused, inclining her head slightly. "Just as it takes less time to see you by yourself than it does when Professor Snape is here heckling me as well."

Remus smiled a bit.

"You can go," she told him. "Just stop by the receptionist first."

"Is there anything I can do to help?" he asked suddenly, surprising himself.

She blinked at him. "Help?" she repeated. For a moment she looked as though she were considering it, then she smiled a bit and patted his shoulder. "That's sweet of you to offer, but I know you're tired."

"Yes," he replied, "I am tired. So are you, though, and so are all of those people in the waiting room. If there's something I can do to help speed things along, I will."

She hesitated, and he could almost see her turning it over in her mind. He could practically hear her objections. On the one hand, it was probably inappropriate for him to even offer. On the other, it was obvious that they were understaffed. "Well," she said finally, "if you really want to, I can probably justify letting you pull files and…" She looked at the folder in her hand, then offered it to him. "Here," she said, handing him a quill as well. "Take their statements. The same as I asked you. Here's the script, and you just record their responses, and explain the document to them so they can be ready to initial and sign."

He nodded and took the folder, glancing over it, then paused. "May I make a suggestion?"

"If you have a suggestion to speed things along, I'll hear anything at this point."

"How many people do you have here?"

"Three."

"Is it necessary for the same person to take all the steps?"

"What do you mean?"

"Can we do this assembly line-style?"

"And you're the one always griping about wanting humane treatment," she muttered.

"There's a time and a place, and I'd say that the time ended about three hours ago. Don't you want to go home?"

After a moment, she nodded, and disappeared. At first, it seemed that they were only going to slow down—it took nearly half an hour to get the next four werewolves through the process of making their statements and signing the documents, and that was roughly twice as long as it was taking before. Within the next half hour, though, more than a dozen were finished, and half an hour after that, the last was on his way out the door. As Remus was gathering his briefcase, he overheard one of the case workers congratulate Lara on her 'inspired' idea.

"It wasn't mine," she replied. "It was Remus'."

"Well done, Remus!" the woman told him, offering her hand. He smiled as he shook it.

"You know," began Brian, the only man in the group, "I think that if we expand on that a little more next month—"

"Oh, hush up," Lara said as she herded them all into the hall. "I don't want to hear about next month until next week at least." There was a general murmur of a chuckle as she locked the door. "You lot want to go out for dinner somewhere?" she asked. "My treat."

"What'd you have in mind?" asked Deborah, the witch who had taken his case a few weeks ago when Lara had been busy.

"How about Pandora's Box?" Lara suggested as they headed down the corridor.

"You're buying?" Brian asked with a grin. "Sounds good to me."

Remus considered this the end of his lingering with the group, and quickened his pace, but Lara reached out and caught his sleeve. "You too," she said. "If you hadn't suggested that, we'd probably still be in there for another two hours."

"I appreciate the offer, but—"

"No, no buts," she told him firmly.

"Lara, Remus is probably exhausted," Deborah pointed out.

"Oh, that's right. I'm sorry," she said, smiling at him again. Her entire demeanor changed suddenly, and the sympathetic, if somewhat detached case worker made a sudden return.

"Hey, you know what?" Brian said suddenly. "I'm pretty beat too. Why don't we go out another night? Next week maybe? And then Remus can come with us." He looked at Remus suddenly and grinned. "If you want to, that is."

Remus hesitated, and Patricia, the youngest of the four case workers, winked at him. "Oh, come on," she said. "It's the least we can do. Besides, didn't anyone ever tell you that you never pass up a free meal?"

"Have you ever been to Pandora's Box?" Brian asked. "I'm guessing no or you wouldn't even have to think about it."

"Say yes," Lara urged him. "Patricia really is right, you know. It's the least we can do."

"All right," he agreed finally.

"Excellent! Your appointment is on Wednesday, isn't it?"

He nodded.

"Then we'll all just plan to go on Wednesday evening."

"Are we going to have time for our meeting Monday morning?" Deborah asked suddenly. "I have some things I need to talk to you about before you talk to Davis."

They had reached the front desk, and Lara reached for Remus' paperwork. As she handed it to the guard, she told him sternly, "Just stamp it and don't ask questions. It's too late for nonsense."

The guard obeyed, and Remus scrawled his name across the necessary forms, deciding that for once, he could put a little trust in Lara at least. It was one thing to read every form before he signed it, it was another thing entirely to read the same form every month.

"Good night, Remus," Lara told him as he headed towards the Apparation area.

"Good night," he replied, stifling a yawn. As soon as he was back at Headquarters, he collapsed into his bed, not even bothering to take off his shoes. He was exhausted, but he felt more accomplished than he had in a very long time.

The following Wednesday, he arrived for his appointment less than five minutes before it was scheduled to begin. So far, they had never been on time the week after a full moon, and Remus wasn't in the mood to wait indefinitely. At least this time he'd brought a book along with him, and he settled into one of the chairs and lost himself between the pages. It was over an hour and a half before Patricia called him back, and she smiled apologetically as she shuffled him into her office.

"Where's Lara?" he asked as she pointed at a chair.

Patricia grimaced. "Eh," she said dismissively, "some stuff came up and she's having to deal with it. How're you feeling?"

"I'm fine."

"Getting enough sleep? Good meals?"

"If I'm not, it's my own fault."

She laughed. "Is that a yes, then?" she asked.

"Yes," he replied. "I'm getting plenty of sleep and plenty to eat."

"Great! Oh, nice note here from Deborah," she said, grinning. She lowered her voice and mimicked a very serious tone. "'Remus is often difficult to convince to submit to the examination,'" she read, and he stiffened. She winked at him. "You're going to like this, then," she told him. "Lara got that requirement changed on Monday. Now you only have to do it once a month—twice if you stay here during the moon. And speaking of moons, have you still got your supply of Wolfsbane?"

Remus nodded numbly.

"Fantastic! And have you already made arrangements to have it delivered here? Yes? Good. Let's see, then. What else do we need to do…?" She consulted a list, tapping her quill against it, and he squinted, trying to see what it was. When she noticed his interest, she turned it around so he could see it more clearly. "Just a checklist," she said brightly, tucking a strawberry blonde curl behind her ear. "I know Lara and Deborah don't need them, but honestly, I'd forget something if I didn't make myself one."

"How old are you, Patricia?" he asked suddenly.

"Twenty-two," she replied without hesitation. "How old are you?"

Remus shook his head slightly. _Nearly old enough to be your father_, he thought. "You have my birthday right in front of you," he replied aloud.

"I sure do, don't I?" She flipped through the pages of his folder. "I don't have an—"

"An address on file for me," he finished for her. "Can you write something in that blank for me, please? Write 'Care of Albus Dumbledore, Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.'"

"Are you still teaching?" she asked suddenly. "We don't have you down for being employed anywhere."

"No," he replied. "I'm not teaching, but Dumbledore knows how to get in touch with me."

"Can't we know how to get in touch with you?" she asked.

"No."

She sighed and grinned. "Ah well, it was worth a try, wasn't it?" She started to open a drawer, but he interrupted her.

"I don't need the brochures about the public housing units the Ministry maintains. I have three of those brochures already."

"Oh."

"I know the drill, Patricia."

"Right," she said, looking through his folder again. "That's all the normal business, but there is something I need to bring your attention to." She turned around and pulled a packet of papers off the shelf. "This is a new addendum to the Werewolf Code of Conduct," she told him, as though the first page of the packet did not say 'Werewolf Code of Conduct: Addendum A'. "I'm going to need you to sign this first page," she said, opening the booklet and pointing to the first page. "It just says that you've received the new addendum, and you're going to need to put the date here—"

"Where it says 'date'?" he asked.

Patricia smiled brightly again. "Right there," she replied. "And then I'm going to need you to take it home with you—"

"And read it," he finished for her. "And then sign something that says I read it and understand it, no doubt."

She scrunched up her nose and nodded. Remus stifled a sigh as he scribbled his name on the first page and gave it back to her. As she filed it in his folder, he had the fleeting thought that this patronizing treatment was demeaning from Lara and Deborah, it was simply ridiculous from someone as young as Patricia.

"Now," she said, "the most important thing in there is on page fifteen, and that's something that will apply directly to you, Remus. Whereas in the past you've sworn that there is someone who can vouch for your whereabouts after the full moon, now that person will need to come with you and sign an affidavit."

Remus stared at her. "So now, not only do I have to give up half my day, I have to ask someone else to do so as well?"

"I know it's inconvenient," she said. "Thing is, the number of bites have actually gone _up_ since we started our new measures, and they're supposed to be going down. So, Minister Davis suggested that if we make double sure that all our werewolves are properly restrained, and make a second person responsible, that the friends and families of the werewolves will take a more active role in seeing that—"

"You're going to hold innocent people responsible for the conduct of werewolves?" he asked bluntly. "This is ridiculous. What does Davis really hope to gain?"

Patricia's bright blue eyes widened. "All any of us want is to reduce the number of bites," she told him. "That's _all_. Forty-seven bites last month, forty-nine this month. In August, there were thirty-five, and in July, there were only twenty-eight. That number isn't supposed to be going up like that."

It was another one of those entirely-too-reasonable dead ends. "Fine," he snapped. "I'll read it tonight. When do I need to have it back?"

"When you come back again will be fine," she replied. "I think we'll schedule your next appointment for—" she flipped through a book, then tapped a finger at a page. "How about the seventh? We'll start doing your Wolfsbane doses at the same time."

"I don't have to come in next week?" he asked incredulously.

"Nope," she replied, grinning. "Lara got that changed too. She said there just aren't enough of us to meet with every single werewolf four times a month. So now we only have two of these meetings every month, and whatever other things go on—the potion, the custody, those follow-up visits and stuff like that. Do you want to come in the morning or in the afternoon?"

"Morning."

"Eight o'clock okay?"

"That's fine," he replied. This was the first time he'd been given a choice.

"All right then! Eight o'clock on the seventh. I'm putting you on Lara's schedule, by the way. Oh, and are you still coming out to dinner with us tonight?"

"Dinner?"

"Pandora's Box? Seven o'clock? Do you know where it is? Remember, we talked about it last Friday. It's really good, and a really nice restaurant."

Nice. That was a dreaded word. He glanced surreptitiously at his robes, which were the best he owned and still a bit threadbare and frayed. Certainly suitable enough for trips to the Ministry, but far from 'nice.' "Oh, I _had_ forgotten," he lied. "I'm afraid I've already made other plans."

"Oh, no," Patricia said, her face falling. "You sure?"

"Quite," Remus replied firmly.

"Well, that stinks." She closed his folder and stood, and he took that as his cue to stand as well. "We'll see you in a couple of weeks then, right?"

"Right."

"Have a good rest of the day!" she said as she escorted him from the office and back to the waiting room. She dropped his folder off at the reception desk, and he shifted the new addendum to his other hand, tucking it under his arm.

"Remus!" The exclamation was followed in short order by a particularly energetic Edward crashing against him and enveloping him in a ferocious hug.

Remus chuckled and hugged the boy back. "I guess that means you're feeling all right," he said as he allowed himself to be pulled to the chairs where Diana was struggling with Robbie.

"Edward! What did I tell you about running off like that?" she demanded, but Edward hardly seemed to notice her harsh tone.

"I found Remus!"

"I see that," Diana said, smiling over the top of Edward's head. "He's missed you," she told him. "It's been nothing but 'Remus says' and 'Remus does' all weekend."

"Guess what!" Edward said as he climbed back into the chair again, his feet kicking frantically.

"What?" Remus asked.

"We went to Diagon Alley today and I used the Floo all by myself and we had ice cream at Florean Fon- Fontses- Florean Fotseskees and Mum gave me a whole Galleon to spend on whatever I wanted!"

"Edward! Remus doesn't care."

"What did you spend it on?" Remus asked.

Diana just shook her head. "Can't you tell by looking at him?" she asked.

Edward ducked away as Diana reached for him, and Remus chuckled as he recognized the smear across Edward's face. "Chocolate Frogs?" he guessed.

"Yep!"

"And we've had entirely too many of them," Diana muttered.

"What cards did you get?" Remus asked him.

"I got a Dumbledore… and I got a Merlin… and… uh… Oh! I got a Kirley Duke!"

"And then I took the rest of the frogs away from him," Diana said. "Three is quite enough for one day."

"And Robbie nearly drowned this morning," Edward announced.

Remus looked at Diana, who was shaking her head. "He did _not_ nearly drown," she protested. "He fell in a—"

"In a lake!"

"—in a puddle."

Remus covered his mouth, trying desperately not to laugh and failing miserably.

"When you gonna come have dinner with us again?" Edward asked suddenly, standing in the chair.

"Sit _down_," Diana told him firmly, and Edward crouched in the chair. "Your bum in the chair, young man," she told him, then shook her head at Remus. "Three Chocolate Frogs was apparently _too_ many."

"Tonight?" Edward asked, obviously not the slightest put-off by the fact that he hadn't had an answer yet.

"Er…"

"You're welcome to come any time," Diana said, shifting Robbie in her arms. He was sleeping peacefully, and quite oblivious to everything going on around him, it seemed.

Remus actually considered it for a minute, but only for a minute before he shook his head. "I already have plans tonight," he replied, recycling the same excuse he'd offered Patricia, though his reasons were quite different. He was still thinking about the dry, stringy roast she'd served up last time and the awkwardness of the evening.

"Next week, perhaps?" Diana suggested.

He couldn't very well wriggle out of that one gracefully, and faced with saying no or agreeing, he decided enduring an evening of strained conversation and overcooked food was preferable. "That would be great," he lied.

"Next Friday?" she suggested, and he nodded.

"Friday it is, then," he replied, making a mental note to eat well just before he left for her house. "Right now, I have to go, though." He stood, and she did as well, shifting Robbie again.

"We'll see you next week, then," she said with a smile

He smiled back, then offered his hand to Edward. "See you around," he said.

Edward ignored the extended hand and flung himself against Remus again, hugging him fiercely enough that it nearly knocked Remus off balance. He smiled and hugged the boy back once again, but Edward was already wriggling away. "Bye!" he said as he climbed into the chair again.

"Bye."

As Remus walked away, he heard Diana hiss, "What did I tell you about that?"

"But, Mu-um. You _said_ you hoped he'd come back again!"

_Tread carefully, Remus_, he told himself firmly as he stepped into the corridor. _The last thing you want to do is encourage her._

* * *

_A/N:Wow. You people really loved me last chapter ;) I told you I wouldn't be abandoning this one. It took a back burner status for a bit, but the muse found it unexpectedly interesting this weekend, so an update a bit sooner than expected. At the price of finishing Tomorrow We May Die, of course, but ah well. Such is love and fanfic._

_Obviously, I have decided to continue this one on the same track it was started._

_zhaneraal-- thank you. That is the sort of compliment that really makes me feel all warm and fuzzy inside ;) I do try to make my characters 'real' in that they are seldom 'good' or 'evil', but fall somewhere in between. I think most people are inherently very likable and every easy to detest. Thanks for your comments, and notice my self restraint in not pimping my other works ;)_

_cecelle: don't they, though? You know, given the choice between fluff and angst, I'll choose angst any day of the week and twice on Sundays. _

_silverthreads: Thank you. I tend towards liking her myself. I really didn't intend her to be a big part of the fic, but it just kind of happened, you know? And I agree. She does deserve to get the guy. Now if they guy will just cooperate a little._

_Victoria: Thanks. I'm glad you enjoyed. I tend to see Remus as a nice guy in general, so yes, apt description._

_duj: I've known a number of women who have been in that position, and it's never an easy one, I don't think. I do base the wizarding world's attitude towards lycanthropy as a combination of things, and disability is certainly one of them. A lot of Lara's attitude towards werewolves is based off observations of well-meaning people towards those who are disabled. I remember when my grandmother had a stroke, all the nurses and home health therapists would shout at her and really dumb down their words, and it made me so mad because she could hear just fine and her comprehension was excellent. Her speech was slurred, though, so others assumed she couldn't hear them properly I was sixteen, so it really wasn't my decision, but as a family, we did have to make a decision about whether to put her in a home or care for her ourselves, and it was a really tough call. On the one hand, my mother was especially concerned that she wouldn't be able to care for her properly (she had to learn to take blood pressure and give injections, and we all had to learn to deal with partial paralysis) but on the other, no one wanted to see her in a home. So that was some of where I was headed with Diana and Edward. What's more, what one person can do is not necessarily something another person could do._

_HumanTales: Remus is such a man, isn't he? Honestly, I get tired of fics that portray him as very passive and a glorified housewife, and there is so much angst in this storyline (and so much yet to come!) that I was afraid of not balancing that with some general y-chromosone jerkiness. And, I'm not sure how Remus would feel about watching the kids full time, nor how the kids would feel about him stepping into that role. That will be interesting when I get to that point._

_Katie: Thanks for your comments. I'm glad you're enjoying. I think it's much more fun to write a socially inept character than one who is very suave._

_hopgoblen: Thank you. I think you're right about Diana-- she would do anything for those kids, and that's an interesting place to build a relationship. Lupin would have to come in with the knowledge that he does not and never will come first in her life._

_rowlinghermione: Thank you for the encouragement! I promise, I am working on it as I go, and as soon as I polish off Tomorrow We May Die, this one will come along more quickly._

_Alethia: __1. Very perceptive. I think Remus does have more sympathy towards Edward than anything, but at the same time, I saw him as craving interaction with someone who is on an equal plane with him. I really think that for Remus to accept any one member of the family, he will have to accept them all as a whole. _

_2. Snape and Lupin are both straight in this series of fics. That's as plainly as I can say it. It is actually very hard work to keep their friendship entirely platonic because there have been plenty of times when I could have very easily taken a slashy route, and in all honesty, I was very tempted in several places. I like writing Snape and Lupin together, regardless of which dynamic I choose for them. Writing animosity between them is as appealing as friendship, which is as appealing as sexual tension. I have a snupin slash story on SycophantHex, so I can say without batting an eyelash that it's not an aversion to slash that makes me so adamant that this particular Snape/Lupin dynamic is nothing more than a friendship, challenging though it is to keep them above the sheets at times. I agree with you entirely about American culture wanting to read sex everywhere, and though I'm sure it can be read into this fic and the accompanying ones, it is not something I have written into it._

_Incidentally, I squeed over your remarks about Lucius. That was exactly how I wanted him to come off._

_DiscombobulatedDrummer: Thanks for your comments. I swear I don't intend to abandon this one any time soon, and I will get to more frequent updates. Honest._

_Elfstorm: I think that's pretty much the conclusion I've come to. This story is too far along for me to rewrite._

_Ruse123: I think I've pretty much decided this one will go along as it has been. I spent some time thinking about how I could redo it to make it HBP compliant, but in the end, I think I'd lose a lot of the arcs I've been working with. You'll be pleased to know, however, that most of the Snape/Lupin interaction is going to be very squarely in TWMD, so you'll find it easy to ignore. I've been wanting to separate this one a bit, and I think I'm going to manage it more fully now. It will be a story about Lupin, and though his friendship with Snape will continue to be a part of the background of it, it's taking a backseat to other story arcs. Thanks for your comments, though. I really do enjoy writing this story, and I think it's my favorite of my WiPs (for all it gets shafted in favor of others so often) and I am not going to give it up._

_Wow, that was a lot of A/N, wasn't it?_

_Thanks to everyone for your comments, and thanks as well to those who read without commenting. Special thanks to LariLee, who betas all of my WiPs. Poor thing. I don't know that she knew what she was getting into when she volunteered for that gig ;)_


	11. Chapter 11: Good Reasons

**Chapter 11: Good Reasons**

Accompanied by a sense of déjà vu, Remus paused at the gate in front of Diana's house. The house was still in a poor state of repair, and now a growing pile of rotting autumn leaves added to the general sense of neglect, but there was something different, something that took him a minute to put his finger on.

The house looked warmer somehow. The glow from the windows seemed to have a heat that had not been present last time—perhaps it was because it was colder, wetter, windier and darker than it had been last time, or perhaps because Remus' own expectations were different. Last time, he'd come prepared for a romantic evening. This time, he'd come armed with chocolate raspberry ice cream that Edward had _not_ asked for and a much more realistic expectation for what was to happen.

He lifted the latch on the gate and stepped into the yard, closing the gate behind him. He wasn't halfway up the walk when the door opened and Edward came barreling out into the cold, barefoot and without a jacket. Remus was almost prepared when the boy slammed into him full force and wrapped his arms around him. Remus returned the heartfelt embrace with a little more restraint and ruffled Edward's hair, but before he got around to saying hello, Diana's voice came through the open door.

"Edward Murphy! Get your bum back in here! Running out like that with no shoes. Remus doesn't want you plastering yourself against him every time you see him. Can't you learn to shake hands?"

Remus chuckled and guided Edward back towards the house with a hand on his back. The scene was much like last time—Robbie peeked from behind Diana's knees, left hand wound into her robe, right thumb planted in his mouth. Diana held the door with one hand, stepping out of the way as Edward darted inside past her, her other hand occupied with steering Robbie as he persisted in his clinging.

Unlike last time, she didn't appear to have spent the time getting ready for the evening. Her hair hung down her back in a sensible braid, her robe was more practical. The smell wafting from the kitchen was more savory.

"Good evening," she said, closing the door as Remus stepped inside.

"Good evening," he replied. An awkward moment of silence passed between them as they stood in the hallway, but Robbie's tolerance of the silence seemed short.

He gave his mother's robe a firm tug. "Mummy!"

"What?" Diana asked, looking down at him.

Robbie's lower lip was protruding, a distrusting gaze directed at Remus. "Up."

She picked him up, and he leaned his head against her shoulder, thumb in his mouth again.

"You know," Remus said, looking at the child, "I don't think you like me."

"Robbie doesn't like strangers," Diana replied, gesturing towards the kitchen.

The table was already set, and something was simmering on the stove. Diana lifted the lid and peered inside, a fragrant steam surrounding them. She poked a spoon into the pot and stirred, trying in vain to put Robbie down. Robbie refused to let go of her, and her efforts to disentangle her robe from his hands proved an exercise in futility.

"Let go," she urged as she eased his fingers open, but he was having none of it; he wrapped his arms around her knees. "Mummy needs to finish dinner."

"No dinner."

"Don't you want to eat?"

"No."

"Is there anything I can do to help?" Remus asked, placing a Chilling Charm over the ice cream and setting it on the counter. Robbie's head snapped towards him as he spoke, his mouth pursing into a frown. Diana looked at her youngest son, then at Remus, and nodded as she picked Robbie up again.

"Will you put the soup on the table?" she asked. "I seem to have something attached to me."

Remus chuckled, and moved the pot of soup onto the table. "Anything else?" he asked.

She smiled over the top of Robbie's head. "No," she replied. "Thank you." They lingered again, and this time the silence wasn't so awkward, but it was interrupted by the door opening and Edward bursting in.

"Can Remus sit by me?"

"Ask Remus if he wants to sit by you," Diana answered, waving her wand to dim the lights.

Edward 'asked' him by grabbing one of his hands and pulling him towards the table, pointing at a chair. "You can sit by me," he proclaimed, and Remus noticed that Diana was avoiding his eyes as she settled Robbie into a high chair. Remus held her chair for her, earning himself an odd look from her and a considering look from Edward as she seated herself.

"Thank you," she said.

"You're quite welcome," Remus replied as he sat in the chair Edward had indicated.

The soup turned out to be much more palatable than the roast had been, and Remus was quite thankful for that. He was all too aware that he was eating under the scrutiny of an eight-year-old, and it was an odd sort of knowledge. He'd never been a role model for anyone, and he wasn't sure he was up to the job, but given that Edward hadn't consulted him before deciding to try and emulate him, Remus felt he had no choice but to be on his best behavior. He made a conscious effort to keep his elbows off the table and not to talk with his mouth full.

Except for the food, most of the meal was very similar to the previous—Diana's time was spent coaxing bites into Robbie's mouth while Edward took it upon himself to entertain Remus. Remus, for his part, was more willing to be entertained by an eight-year-old and found himself laughing at jokes that weren't funny and talking about things he hadn't talked about since _he_ was eight years old. Edward was quite capable of a one-sided conversation, and he never seemed to notice when Remus' part in it lulled.

After dinner, Remus mentioned in a casual voice that he'd brought ice cream for dessert, and the grin that broke out across Edward's face was like the spring sun breaking through winter's clouds. Edward wanted to help serve it, and Remus held the carton while Edward dipped hollow, crescent-shaped scoops into bowls. After they finished the ice cream, Diana took Robbie to bed, and Remus and Edward cleaned the kitchen.

"Mum likes you," Edward announced as he dipped the remaining soup into a bowl.

"Does she?" Remus asked as the sink filled with water.

"Yep. She practiced this soup three times. She said she didn't want it to turn out as bad as the roast did."

Remus felt a pang of guilt over that. "There was nothing wrong with the roast," he protested.

Edward's expression of frank disbelief told Remus everything he needed to know about his opinion of that statement, but he shrugged after a moment. "Do you like my mum?"

"Yes…" Remus said, choosing his words with care. "She's very nice."

"But do you, you know, _like_ her?"

Remus turned his attention to the dishes. "I'm not sure I know what you mean," he answered after a hesitation. That was the truth. An eight-year-old kid couldn't know—

"You know, like are you gonna hug and kiss her and stuff?"

So maybe an eight-year-old kid _could_ know more than Remus was giving him credit for. He almost dropped the bowl he was washing. "I'm not sure I know your mother well enough yet."

"Well," Edward said, dropping his voice to a conspiratorial whisper, "if she tries to kiss you, just pretend to sneeze. Works every time."

Remus had to bite his tongue to keep from laughing. It would seem that Edward still harbored a bit of confusion on the matter, and Remus felt it was far from him to straighten the boy out. "I'll keep that in mind," he said when he trusted himself to speak without laughing.

They worked in silence for a few minutes before Edward continued with the awkward subject. "Mum says someday I won't mind it so much. I don't think I'll ever like it, though."

"I wouldn't count out the possibility," Remus replied. "Mums have a way of turning out to be right."

"Do you like it?"

Remus hesitated before nodding. "Yes," he replied, deciding once again that honesty was the best course of action with the boy.

"Why?"

This time, Remus couldn't help but laugh a little. He half-turned to see the expression of befuddled horror on Edward's face, and that added fuel to his mirth. "Because it feels good," he replied. _Vague_ honesty was the best course of action.

"Really?"

"Really. Don't you like it when she hugs you?"

Edward seemed to consider this for a moment. "I guess it's all right sometimes," he replied at length. "Like maybe when I'm scared or something."

Remus nodded. "Yes. A hug certainly feels good when you're scared."

"Do you still get scared?"

"Of course. Everyone gets scared."

"What scares you?"

Such a simple question, yet one that seemed almost impossible to answer. Most of the immediate responses he came up with seemed unsuitable to confess to a child—the fear of spending the rest of his life alone, the fear that he might endanger someone when he wasn't in control of himself, the fear of disappointing the people who meant the most to him, the fear of losing those he cared about. At the same time, he wanted to do the question justice and not brush it off. This wasn't the first time Edward had asked him something similar, and Remus wasn't sure that the question was innocent.

"I'm terribly afraid of seeing people I love suffer," he offered at last. "Sometimes I'm very much afraid of what might happen." He dunked the pot the soup had been in into the water. "What scares you?" he asked.

Edward didn't answer right away, and when Remus looked over his shoulder, Edward was sitting at the table, his arms wrapped around his knees. Remus dried his hands and went to sit beside him.

"You can tell me," he said, hoping he sounded more reassuring than he felt.

"I'm a werewolf because another werewolf bit me, right?" Edward asked after a moment.

Remus nodded. "That's right."

"Is that how come you're a werewolf?"

"That's how all werewolves become werewolves."

"Have you ever bit anybody?"

"No."

"How do you know? I can't remember what happens when I'm a werewolf. The werewolf that bit me—do you think he knew it?"

"I doubt that he knew," Remus replied, hoping he sounded more sure than he felt. After all, he knew with great certainty that the werewolf who had infected _him_ had intended to do just that, and he had no way of knowing whether the same was true of Edward. Remus' conviction to be honest had reached a limit, though; eight years old was far too young to carry that particular burden. "And I know that I've never bitten anyone because I've been very careful. You have to be very careful, and you have to take it very seriously."

Again, that wasn't the full truth; he could not say with great certainty that he'd never bitten anyone. He'd been irresponsible with his condition when he was young, and even as an adult, he'd not managed it perfectly. He doubted anyone could ever manage it perfectly. There would always be the dose of Wolfsbane that he might forget, or worse still, the full moon that might slip up on him. He knew that the consequences for irresponsibility were high, but knowing did little to change anything. That was knowledge that an eight-year-old didn't need, either. Edward needed to believe with all his heart that if he was very careful, he had nothing to worry about.

"It scares me when I wake up after a full moon and I can't remember what happened. I used to always wake up in my bed, but since I have to go to the Ministry, it's worse."

Remus wasn't sure what to say to that, or if he should say anything at all, and once again his response was slow in coming. "You don't have to worry about what happened," he said. "That's one of the reasons there are so many rules for werewolves during the full moon. We make sure we can't do anything we'd regret."

"I don't want to go to the Ministry again."

Remus offered a sympathetic smile. "I know." He was saved any further struggling for the right thing to say as Diana returned, pausing in the doorway to look back and forth between them.

"Edward, are you pestering Remus?"

"No!" Edward protested.

Remus chuckled. "Not at all," he replied, standing again.

Diana reached for Edward, but he ducked away from her, darting towards the door. "Can I go play?"

"Yes," she said, gesturing at the door. "Go play and stay out of trouble."

As the door slammed behind Edward, Remus grinned at Diana. "Do you think he'll stay out of trouble?"

She snorted. "Oh, sure," she replied. "As soon as the sun starts rising in the west." His eyes lingered on her for a moment as she rolled up her sleeves and plunged her hands into the dishwater. "I wish you wouldn't do this, you know," she said, waving her hand at the clean dishes.

"My mother would have beaten me half senseless if I'd ever not offered to help clean up after a meal," he replied as he gathered the last of the dishes and carried them to the sink. "It's the least I can do."

She craned her neck to look up at him. "Well, if I ever see her, I'll tell her what a good job she did then. Where does she live?"

"She died during the last war."

"Oh. I'm sorry."

Remus shrugged. "That's what happens during wars," he replied.

After they finished in the kitchen, he followed her into the sitting room, which was dominated by an elaborate structure of building blocks in the middle of the floor.

"He's been working on that for three days," Diana said with an apologetic smile. "I didn't have the heart to tell him to put it away."

Remus crouched, looking at the project. It was almost three feet tall, and despite being constructed from square blocks, it looked like a spiral that flared towards the top. "No," he assured Diana as he backed away from it again, careful not to breathe on it for fear it might fall. "Not at all."

"He loves those blocks," she murmured, bending to pick up a discarded one. "That kid has more blocks than any three should need, but it keeps him amused."

Remus sat on the sofa, still staring at the structure. "Did he come up with that himself?"

Diana nodded. "I think he'll be wonderful at working with his hands when he gets older," she said. "He's more coordinated than I am. If I try to stack five blocks together, they topple." She sat on the opposite end of the sofa, smiling a bit.

"Maybe you have an architect on your hands, then."

"Maybe so."

When they fell into silence this time, Remus found his eyes lingering on Diana's hands. She was turning the block over and over, her fingers stroking the edges of it. She had long, slender fingers, and if her hands hadn't been so chapped, they might have been elegant. When he'd first seen her, Remus had thought Diana looked half-starved, and she hadn't added an ounce since then as far as he could tell. She didn't look as worn tonight, though. She looked delicate.

When she leaned over to put the block aside, she craned her neck, and he was awarded with a glimpse of pale, slender throat, and as she settled against the sofa again, he found his eyes lingering on her breasts. He forced his eyes back to her face, and felt a blush creeping into his cheeks as he realized that she was watching him as well.

"You're looking at me," she said with a smile.

He cleared his throat. "I should go," he said, standing. "I've—"

"Don't go," she whispered, reaching for his hand. His fingers curled around hers before he thought about it. "I don't mean to keep scaring you off." She tugged at his hand, and he sat again.

"You're not scaring me off."

"Are you sure? I was just teasing, you know."

"I know."

"If you want me not to, say so. We're both grown-ups. Surely we can be honest enough with ourselves and each other to just say it."

Once again, he felt he was treading on dangerous grounds, though why he felt that was beyond him. Something told him not to burn bridges he might later want to travel, though. "Say what?" he asked, striving for nonchalance.

"You don't want me to flirt with you?" she suggested.

"I never said that."

"I know. You were just going to leave again."

"Am I that transparent?"

"Sometimes." Her eyes held his for a moment. "Sometimes no. I can't tell if you do want me to stop or not."

"I do," he replied without thinking. With an apologetic smile, he inclined his head and shrugged. "And I don't.

"You mean you do, but think you shouldn't."

He sighed. "Diana," he began, trying to ignore how pleasant her name felt on his lips, "I'm not the sort of man you want. I have nothing to offer you, and it would be heartless of me to pretend that something could come of it. I can't do that to you. I won't."

"Isn't it supposed to be the woman who's thinking about the future?" she asked with a smile. He looked away. How could he explain to her that he had no choice but to think about the future? His life existed around the future—the next appointment with the Ministry, the next full moon, the next dose of Wolfsbane. He couldn't remember ever having lived in the present.

"I won't lead you on like that," he repeated.

She drew her feet up, tucking them under her and propping her elbow against the back of the sofa. Watching him, she leaned her head against her hand. "Do you think perhaps I know more about what I'd be getting myself into than most women do?" she asked.

"Diana—"

"Just humor me," she interrupted. "Do you think perhaps I'm better-prepared to decide if it's worth it?"

He sighed again. "Yes," he conceded, "but—"

"I have no delusions, Remus. None. I know what Edward goes through, and God knows I know what it's like to not have money. Those are your two objections, aren't they? You're a werewolf and you don't have a job?"

Her blunt assessment made him feel all the more inadequate. He nodded, afraid he'd make a fool of himself if he opened his mouth.

"That's a chance I'm willing to take," she told him. "We're being honest adults, right?"

"Of course."

"There you go. I've thought about it. I've asked myself if I wanted to encourage you or not. I hadn't decided when you came in tonight. Do you know what made me decide I do?"

He shook his head.

"Edward. Edward adores you."

"Edward," he repeated, feeling as though she'd punched him in the chest. He hadn't been prepared to hear that answer, and the implications were enough to make him feel ill. "I passed whatever tests you had for surrogate father, then," he said, trying to keep the indignation from seeping into his voice.

"I don't have the luxury of not thinking about that," she replied. "I come with two children, and any man who would be unsuitable for them is unsuitable for me as well. But no, actually, that wasn't what I meant at all. Edward practically hero-worships you, Remus, and when I see him hanging on your every word, I always want to see if I can see what he sees. I always do. He's too young and too genuine to worry about anything except that he likes you, and that's an excellent place to start."

"Do I get a say in this or have you and Edward already planned the next twenty years?" Despite the harshness of his words, he'd let go of some of his offense already.

"No one's talking about the next twenty years," Diana replied her tone softening as she reached for his hand. "No one's talking about the next twenty years except in the sense that something that would be impractical in twenty years is impractical to pursue now. That's what you're saying, isn't it?"

"Yes," he replied, feeling that he ought to pull his hand away but leaving it for the moment. "That's exactly what I'm saying. And what you see right now is as good as it gets. I'm only going to age faster, die younger, have a harder time finding a job as I get older. There's no hope for me."

She narrowed her eyes and leaned forward, grasping his chin between her fingers. "Look around," she said. "I live in a house that my sister-in-law bought for me and I feed my sons off the stipend she gives me from my late husband's restaurant. Do you think it gets any worse than this? I'm not looking for a ticket out of this dump, Remus. Believe me, if I were, I would be looking in other departments at the Ministry. In fact, I haven't been looking for anything. I happened to find you. You know what else? I'm not after a gold ring and another march down the aisle. I just want you to stop running off. Stop making excuses. I want you to stay and talk to me for a little while longer so I can remember that there is a world that doesn't need me to pick up its toys and pour its juice. Anything else that does or doesn't happen is of little importance, so don't worry. There's not a hook in your soup bowl." She let go of him and sat back again. "If you want to go, go. If you need to go, go. But don't go because you're afraid that in twenty years one of us might regret your staying now."

Infuriatingly, now that he'd managed to kill the mood, the desire to kiss her was almost overwhelming.

"I'm not going anywhere," he whispered, his eyes locked to hers as though secured by a magnet.

"Good," she whispered.

It was well after midnight when Remus returned to headquarters, so he was surprised to find a light still burning. Shutting the door quietly behind him, he peered into the drawing room. Arthur looked up from the book he was reading and smiled.

"Have a good evening?"

"Yes, I did," Remus replied, settling into one of the chairs. "You weren't waiting up for me, I hope."

Arthur chuckled. "I was, actually. You're getting harder to catch, you know."

Remus smiled sheepishly. "I suppose I'm restless lately."

"This new friend… A woman?"

A flush creeping into his face, Remus nodded. "Her name's Diana," he offered, feeling ridiculously like a teenager. He was almost starting to get used to that feeling.

"Is she the same one you had dinner with a couple of weeks ago?"

"Yes." Some of his discomfort must have shown on his face because Arthur suddenly waved a hand dismissively.

"I'm just being nosey, Remus. You're a grown man and you can always tell me to bugger off. Just a point of interest."

_Right_, Remus reminded himself. _Friends take an interest in each other's lives._ "I don't mind," he said.

"Good, then I'll keep being nosey." Arthur smiled and winked at him. "How'd you meet her?"

Remus propped his feet on the coffee table. "At the Ministry, actually. She, er, has a son who is a werewolf."

"Young?"

"Not quite eight."

Arthur shook his head. "Such a pity," he said.

Remus shrugged. "In some ways it's probably easier. I don't remember ever not being one, so it's just a matter of course for me. I expect he'll grow up the same way."

Arthur looked uncomfortable, but nodded. "And the boy's father…?"

Remus narrowed his eyes. "Sits there at the dinner table with us and approves of all of it." Arthur raised an eyebrow, and Remus snorted. "He died. At the same time Edward was attacked."

"And how long ago was that?"

"A few years," Remus replied. "Can we go through all this another time? I have to be at St. Mungo's tomorrow morning at seven."

"St. Mungo's? Why?"

"Weekend dose of Wolfsbane," Remus replied.

"I suppose I understand that someone has to be able to verify your taking it, but it does seem an awful lot of trouble." He shook his head, as though trying to dislodge a thought. "Actually, I wanted to ask you about the Ministry. Have you heard anything through the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures?"

"What kind of anything?" Remus asked.

"Oh, we hear buzz every now and again. It's probably nothing, you understand, but the latest gossip is that Davis is trying to—er—have werewolves declared beasts again."

"No," Remus muttered. "I haven't heard anything about that."

"My understanding is that he's of the opinion that the Ministry is spending too much money on Werewolf Support Services and the department isn't getting as much accomplished as he'd like."

Remus folded his arms and exhaled sharply. "I was wondering how long that would take."

"What's that?"

"We get reclassified at least every couple of years." He sighed and hugged himself tighter. "As beings, we cost the Ministry almost three times as much as we would as beasts. As beasts, we come out of the same budget as Magical Law Enforcement instead of Social Services. Fudge moved us to being status because he wanted more money for the Aurors. I'd hoped some of this shuffling was going to stop since Support Services and Registry were consolidated under the same department, but that was really an unreasonably high hope anyway."

"Is it much worse being classified as a beast?" Arthur asked.

Remus shrugged. "I suppose it doesn't actually change much. It's harder to look in the mirror and know that the Ministry classifies you as a beast. It's bad enough being a creature, but at least when we're beings, the Ministry acknowledges that we're capable of thought."

"But the regulations don't change?"

"Regulations change faster than I can keep up with, and whether we're beasts or beings, we're always a liminal group. As Lara put it, the Ministry will classify us as beasts or beings as they see fit so that they can persecute us more effectively."

"Lara said that?"

"Not in so many words."

Arthur fell silent, rubbing his finger over the spine of his book. "I'm sorry," he said.

"Don't be," Remus said, waving off his concern.

After a few moments, Arthur stood. "Well, I'm calling it a night. I'm sorry I kept you."

Remus shrugged. "No worries."

Arthur placed a hand on Remus' shoulder, squeezing firmly. "Are you staying down here for a while or…?"

Taking a deep breath, Remus stood. "I'm heading to bed too."

"You know, Remus, whatever the Ministry says, your friends know you for who you are. We're going to be here for you regardless of which terminology Davis favors."

"Thanks," Remus said with a smile.

"Good night," Arthur said, squeezing Remus' shoulder again.

Remus placed his hand over Arthur's. "Thank you," he repeated. "It means a lot to me to know I'm not alone."

"You're never alone," Arthur replied, turning to draw him into an embrace. "You're as good as family as far as Molly and I are concerned."

Remus leaned against the wall and watched as Arthur went upstairs. As good as family, was he? It had been a long time since he'd felt like part of a family, but the closest he'd come in his adult years had been with the Weasleys.

* * *

_A/N: I always feel so proud of myself when I update this one. It's kind of ironic, actually-- If I let TWMD go a month without an update, the next chapter comes with profuse apologies. If I update this one once a month, I'm thrilled for being on top of it._

_cecelle: Very much a one-step-forward-two-steps-back dance. looks at chapter And I think Diana did a little better this time around. Advance notice makes all kinds of difference, doesn't it?_

_duj: Wonder what it would take to get the Ministry to get that? It is quite a matter of one werewolf/group of werewolves giving the others a bad name._

_HumanTales: Thank you! I do love to make my readers feel emotion, and frustration with one of the characters works very well for me ;) Provided, of course, that it isn't actually frustration with me for writing him so crappily. As for the bites increasing, I'll get to that :) There's a reason. Thanks for the comments!_

_jensco: Thank you! I'm glad you're enjoying._

_excessively perky: I was laughing as I read your comments about Magical paperwork not changing since 1066. Very true!_

_DiscombobulatedDrummer: Thank you! I'm glad you're enjoying and I appreciate the comments._

_HatakeKakashi22: Thank you! I'm glad you're enjoying. I hate to admit how long I usually let it go between updates, but I do always come back to it._

_Thanks to everyone, as always, for taking the time to read and review. Your comments make it fun to post!_

_Also massive thanks are in order for LariLee, beta extraordinaire. This was one of a stupid number of chapters I dropped in her mailbox this weekend._


	12. Chapter 12: Consequences

**Chapter 12: Consequences**

Remus was coming to dread going to the Ministry on the day that the werewolves turned themselves in. Seeing the horde of hollow-eyed men surrendering themselves to the four case-workers always left him feeling empty and tired, and he tried to be there when the doors opened so he could take his last dose of Wolfsbane and be gone before they started arriving.

Circumstances kept him this month, though, and it was almost two before he was able to get away from headquarters, which meant that he arrived at the Ministry in the midst of the milling, aimless crowd giving itself over to the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures. He picked his way through the throng and gave his name to the frazzled-looking receptionist, then skimmed the room for a place to sit. There were no chairs available, of course, and no empty walls to lean against, so he stood by the window and waited, hoping this wouldn't take too long.

Minutes ticked by, and the crowd grew, seeming to engulf the waiting room. He watched as more and more people pushed their way to the window to sign in, and the noise grew to an unbearable level. After almost half an hour, a dozen people with Ministry name-tags walked in, and the names started being called faster.

"Murphy, Edward!" shouted one voice, and Remus skimmed the crowd, looking for Diana and her sons. He found them pressing to the office door, Edward walking with his head down, the exuberant smile replaced with a sullen frown. Robbie wasn't with them. Remus watched as they disappeared through the door.

"Lupin, Remus!"

Remus looked up and found a wizard in an orange robe waiting at the door to the office corridor, and he sidled his way through the crowd. As soon as the door closed behind them, the roar became a low din.

"Remus Lupin?" the wizard confirmed as he opened the door to one of the offices.

"Yes," Remus replied.

"I'm Albert," the wizard said, gesturing into the room. "Have a seat."

Remus took his seat in the sterile office; it was impersonal and sparsely furnished with one desk, three uncomfortable chairs, a set of scales and a shelf lined with folded blankets. A curtain sectored off one corner of the room.

Albert sat on the other side of the desk, scribbling something on a piece of parchment in the folder. When his quill stopped scratching, he turned it around and pushed it in front of Remus. "Sign there, stating that you're presenting yourself to Ministry custody," Albert said, pointing at a line on the page, "then step behind the curtain. Your possessions go in here." He handed Remus a box.

Remus stared at the box, then looked at the parchment, then at the wizard. "I beg your pardon?"

"Sign there," Albert repeated, tapping the parchment.

"No," Remus interrupted. "There's been some mistake. I'm not turning myself in."

"What do you mean, you're not turning yourself in?" It was Albert's turn for a blank look.

"I'm just here for my dose of Wolfsbane," Remus replied. When no look of comprehension dawned on the other wizard's face, he prompted, "A potion?"

"I don't know anything about a potion," Albert said, pointing at the parchment again. "I'm just supposed to get you to sign, weigh you, get your clothes and take you to your cell."

"But I'm not handing myself over," Remus repeated. "I need to take my potion."

"You're not a werewolf? You _are_ Remus Lupin, aren't you?"

"Yes, but—"

"Remus J. Lupin?"

"Yes."

"All right. Just sign here and—"

"I'm not signing that parchment," Remus protested. "I just need to take my potion and I'll be out of your hair. Are you from another department?"

"That's none of your business," Albert snapped. "And I don't know anything about a potion."

"Why don't you go ask someone?" Remus suggested, his patience wearing thin.

"Look, you're just making this harder on yourself, mate—"

"I am not your mate."

"—just sign the paper and step behind the curtain—"

"Why don't you just go get Lara Berkeley or one of the case workers?"

"They're busy. That's why I'm here helping out. We're just trying to get everyone processed through and—"

"I'll wait."

Albert sighed, and closed the folder with a snap. "I'll be back in a few minutes," he said.

A few minutes turned into nearly fifteen, during which time Remus felt his patience slipping by degrees. When the door opened again, Lara appeared, looking hassled and frazzled.

"Why didn't I know it was you?" she asked, picking up the folder from the desk. "Come on, Remus."

He stood and followed her out into the corridor, past Albert, who already had another folder in his hand and was leading someone else into the room he'd just vacated. They were barely inside Lara's office when she sighed. "Albert tells me you wouldn't cooperate with him."

"He was confused," Remus replied, taking a seat. "I'm just here for my potion, but he doesn't seem to understand that."

"Your potion?" Lara repeated. "Didn't you get—" She interrupted herself with a groan. "This, Remus, is precisely why it is important for us to have a valid address on file," she said. "Ministry owls were sent out yesterday. I take it you have not had your post delivered care of Albus Dumbledore yet?"

"No…" he said, staring at her. "I did not."

"Well," she said, plucking a parchment from the corner of her desk and pushing it towards him, "the short version is that yesterday afternoon, one hundred of our doses of Wolfsbane turned blue, and St. Mungo's personnel confirmed that the batch was tainted. We have no way of knowing which bottles were from which batch, so we sent out letters notifying all werewolves who were relying on Wolfsbane for this month to report to turn themselves in or be declared non-compliant for the month of November."

"What?" Remus asked. "This is ludicrous! Severus Snape brews my Wolfsbane and—"

"Severus Snape brews a supply of Wolfsbane on a monthly basis. It is not destined for any particular werewolf. He supplies the potion and informs us that you have compensated him for a number of bottles."

His stomach was churning. "So you're telling me—"

"I'm telling you that the Wolfsbane may or may not work properly this month, depending on whether you have had doses of the tainted batch—don't worry, Remus, we've had poison experts on this all day and we are almost certain that the tainted potion is simply rendered ineffective, not dangerous. Regardless, you need to give yourself over to us this month."

"No notice, no warning, nothing," Remus snapped. "Is this—"

"We sent the notice," Lara replied. "And we have been trying to get a valid address from you for four months."

"And I've told you I don't have one!"

"And we've given you the information about Ministry housing!" She stood, shoving the chair back from the desk. "I'm not arguing with you, Remus. I have too much to do. You may turn yourself in, or you may decline to do so. The choice is yours. If you wish to be noted as compliant this month, I need you to sign yourself over."

He stared at the parchment, his mouth dry. There was really no choice at all. "All right," he whispered, his voice sticking in his throat. Reaching for the quill, he signed his name, his hand shaking.

"Robe off, and on the scale," she told him. "There's a box behind the screen for your belongings."

Feeling numb, he stepped behind the screen and undressed. When Lara came back, she glanced in the empty box and sighed.

"Are you _ever_ going to cooperate with me the first time I ask you to?" she asked, whisking his clothes and shoes into the box. "Where's your wand?"

"On the bed. Why are you putting my robe in that box?"

"You want it back, don't you?"

"I want it back now."

"You're not allowed the robe while you're in custody."

"I'm allowed it while I'm walking to my cell, aren't I?"

"No," she replied, pointing at the scale again.

"No?" he repeated as she took a reading.

"No. I'll seal the box while you're in this room, and you'll get it back after the full moon."

"But—"

"Lie down."

"Why?"

"Are you declining the examination?"

"What if I do?"

"Then you sign a waiver releasing the Ministry from responsibility for any injury you sustain while in our custody."

He hesitated.

"Either lie down or decline," she said. "Those are your options."

"I decline. Since when do I have to leave my robe here?"

"Since Minister Davis made that stipulation last week. He said the staff was spending too much time getting the werewolves processed into their cells and that was one of his changes to the policy. You may have one of the blankets from the shelf to cover yourself with."

He stared at her as she bent over her desk, scribbling on a piece of paper. This was a nightmare. This was a miserable nightmare and he needed to wake up from it.

"I need you to sign here," Lara was saying as she looked at him again. Her eyes swept him from head to toe as she put the quill and parchment into his hands. "It's a document stating that you declined the examination and thus waive the Ministry's responsibility for your health or injuries."

He skimmed the parchment, barely aware when a scratchy blanket dropped around his shoulders. Still feeling hollow, he signed his name on the document and Lara removed it to his folder.

"Everything will be fine," she told him as she opened the door.

As he stepped into the corridor wrapped in the blanket, he thought that the situation couldn't get much further from 'fine'.

"Guard!" Lara called, and a pock-marked young wizard appeared. "Remus Lupin, case number 33795009. Cell 463."

The wizard took the folder and gestured for Remus to follow. Remus did, too numb to protest. As they rounded a corner, he almost ran into Diana. For a moment, his eyes lingered on hers, but the shame of her seeing him like this turned his eyes to the floor.

"Remus?" she whispered as she reached for Remus' face. "What are you doing? I thought—"

"I'm handing myself over, like everyone else," Remus replied, jerking away from her touch again. He hurried to catch up with the guard again, wishing once more that he would wake up from this nightmare.

"But why?"

He glanced sideways and saw that she was hurrying along after them. _Just go away_, he thought desperately. She didn't go. "Circumstances," he replied aloud, hoping his short answer would deter her.

"Do you need anything?" she asked. "Is there anything I need to do for you?"

_Just go away._ "No."

She didn't turn back, but followed him all the way into the cell. He tried to ignore her as he moved to the back of the cell and sank onto the pile of straw. _Like an animal._ She followed him, sinking to the floor beside him. "Remus?" Her voice was accompanied by a gentle hand.

He couldn't bring himself to meet her eyes.

"Please don't shut me out," she said, sliding her arm around his back.

"Just go," he whispered.

"Why?" she asked, and from the corner of his eye, he saw her lips quirk up into a brief smile. "Something pressing you have to do?"

He drew his knees to his chest and leaned against the wall, the cold seeping through the stone and the blanket. "I don't want you here," he murmured, closing his eyes. He didn't want anyone seeing him like this, least of all her.

"Come here." She wrapped her arms around him, and he felt the gentle pressure of her pulling him towards her. On the one hand, he wanted to lie in her arms and cry like a baby. On the other, he wanted her to leave while he was still holding onto the last shred of his dignity and composure.

"Please just go," he whispered.

"You don't chase someone away when you're going to be alone for the next three days," she chided. "Right now, you cling to whatever kindness anyone offers you, because it's going to have to last you through this."

He snorted and finally turned to look at her. "Are you trying to make me feel better or worse?"

"Better," she said with a smile, urging him towards her again. This time, he let her pull him into her arms, but as she stroked his hair, he felt his control slipping further.

"Why aren't you with Edward?" he asked, still clutching at pride.

"Edward's asleep," she answered, pressing his head into the shallow valley between her small breasts. "That's the best thing I can do for him—make sure he goes to sleep. Are you cold?"

He realized he was trembling and made a conscious effort not to. "No," he whispered hoarsely.

"Frightened then," she said, tightening her arms around him. "I wish you were cold. I could do more about cold than frightened."

He was trembling again, and this time he couldn't stop it, no matter how he tried. Why couldn't he convince people to leave him be? The sympathy and concern were always enough to push him over the edge when he was holding on by a thread.

"Where's Robbie?" he asked, trying to distract himself from the situation.

"I left him with a neighbor," Diana replied. "When I saw how crowded the waiting room was, I was glad I'd left him."

There was a knock at the door and a voice called in, "Ma'am? You'll have to leave."

"I'm coming," she answered, leaning down, kissing Remus' forehead. "Are you sure there's nothing I can do for you? Nothing I need to take care of?"

He hesitated. "Will you tell someone I'm here?"

"Who?"

"Do you know what time it is?"

"Guard?" Diana called. "Do you have the time?"

"Five 'til five," he answered. "All visitors—"

"Must be gone by five," she muttered along with the guard, then smiled at Remus. "Five 'til five," she repeated.

"Arthur Weasley," Remus said. "He works in the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts office. He should be here still. If he isn't, will you send an owl to Hogwarts? To Dumbledore?"

"All right," she agreed. "Is there anything else?"

"No." She lifted a hand to caress his cheek, and he turned to kiss her palm. "Thank you," he whispered.

"You're welcome," she replied, brushing her lips against his. She smiled again, though there were tears in her eyes, and stood. "I'll see you later."

He nodded, a lump in his throat preventing him from speaking.

"Good night," she whispered.

"Good night."

When the door shut behind her, the cell seemed darker and colder than it had been. He let out a slow, shuddering breath and leaned his head against the wall. Three days. He was going to be here all night, then all day tomorrow, and all day Wednesday. The full moon was Friday night and…

He felt ill as he realized what that meant. He would be there all weekend, too, because the requirement would be until Saturday morning, twelve hours after the full moon. Of course the office wouldn't be open on Saturday morning, which meant that it would be Monday before he would be returning to headquarters.

"Shit," he hissed, leaning his head on his knees, trying to ward off the sense of desolation. He didn't know how long he sat like that before he gave in and lay on the straw pallet, and he didn't know how long he lay on the straw before he heard a familiar voice outside his door.

"Remus?"

Lara Berkeley was one of many people he didn't want to see or talk to.

"Remus, answer me."

"What?" he asked, his voice hollow as it echoed off the stone walls.

That was apparently as good as an invitation for Lara; keys rattled in the door and the door swung open and she walked to the back of the cell, crouching beside him. "How are you doing?" she asked.

"Are you here to tell me I can go home?"

"No."

"Then not nearly as good as I could be."

She patted his shoulder and smiled. "Other than having to be here, how are you doing?"

He just shook his head. "It's a prison cell," he snapped. "It's cold, it's dark, it's boring and it's lonely. Actually, it's worse than a prison cell because at least in a prison, I'd have a proper bed." He started to drape his arm over his face but thought better of it—he was loath to leave the protection of the blanket, however scratchy it may be. "Maybe next month I should just murder someone and get myself sentenced to Azkaban. It would be better than this."

"You don't really mean that," she said, sounding alarmed.

"No."

She was petting him. That was the only word he could think of to describe the slow, methodic caress of his shoulder. She was petting him like he was a dog, and damned if part of him wasn't grateful for the contact.

"I owe you an apology," she said. "I didn't intend to be so snappish earlier. We were trying to get everyone processed. I didn't want anyone who surrendered voluntarily to be cited for non-compliance because we weren't working fast enough. I could have been a little less harsh with you."

He was going to have to take lessons from Severus about how to hold a grudge. The anger was one of the last things holding his sanity together, and she was taking that from him now. "I understand," he muttered.

"Are you all right?" she asked again.

He glared at her. "Are you this concerned about all the werewolves or just those of us you deem unable to handle the strain?" he asked.

She shifted so that she was sitting on the floor instead of kneeling. "I am concerned about all of you," she replied. "Do I have special concerns about some of you? Yes. Those of you who sit in my office, the ones I've had the most contact with, yes—I'm more concerned about the ones I know on a more personal level. I'm not the only one who is making visits this evening. Patricia and Deborah and Brian are too. You can't work with someone for four months without developing a more intimate concern for him." She smoothed his hair from his face. "And, I have to admit that I'm more concerned about some of you than others. You know Edward Murphy, don't you?"

Remus nodded.

"I'm particularly concerned about him because he's so young. He's not quite the youngest, but close to it. All the children concern me. They're so vulnerable, and really too young to be away from their parents anyway. There are a few who are very old and they concern me too because I always wonder if they'll survive the transformation. It's hard enough on a healthy young adult, but the body can only take so much abuse before it gives in." She smiled, her hand lingering at his jaw. "And then there are the ones like you. You give me every reason in the world to like you, completely separate from my general sympathy. I'd like to think that under other circumstances, we might be friends. I'm usually very anxious to hear what you have to say, because you think of the things no one else thinks of—or else no one else bothers to tell me. Sometimes I think I've begun to suffer from the malady that makes other people only want to tell me what they think I want to hear."

This wasn't the first time he'd wanted to hate her but couldn't. He wanted to blame Lara Berkeley personally for every rotten regulation the Ministry of Magic forced upon werewolves. He wanted to hold her responsible for the fact that the floors were hard and the walls were cold and the full moon fell at an inconvenient time that meant he was going to be trapped here for twice as long as was necessary. He wanted to blame _someone_, and she would have been a convenient person to blame.

He couldn't, though. It wasn't her fault any more than it was his.

"Are you all right?" she asked again. "I know this came as a shock. You didn't have much time to prepare for it—"

"I didn't have any time to prepare for it."

"If you can't provide us with a more direct address than care of Albus Dumbledore, then don't expect sympathy if you don't know these things further in advance." There was no sympathy in her voice that time. "I apologize that some of the potion was tainted, and the Ministry will be looking into that, but we had very little notice ourselves."

Remus nodded. He supposed he couldn't even hold her responsible for that.

"If you need something, just ask," Lara said, removing her hand from his face. "If you _want_ something, ask. The guards have been instructed to be accommodating within reason."

"Explain to me again why I can't have a book or something to keep me occupied?"

A faint smile touched Lara's lips. "You didn't bring one," she answered. He opened his mouth to protest, but realized it wouldn't do any good. "I'm sure I can find one to bring tomorrow. Any specific requests?"

He shrugged, not knowing how to answer that question. If he'd known this was going to happen and that he would be allowed a book, he would have made a trip to Flourish and Blotts before he came. "I don't know."

"A novel?" she asked.

He nodded.

"Mystery? Adventure?"

"It doesn't matter."

"Remus, really. I want to bring you something to read tomorrow. It isn't often that there's anything I can do, but I can do that much. Don't you want to tell me what you'd like to read?"

"It doesn't matter. Really."

"All right!" she announced. "Trashy romance novels it is."

In spite of himself, he laughed. It felt out of place to be laughing while a prisoner. "Mystery," he said. "Something thick."

"I'll bring you a dozen novels," she said. "And if you finish those, I'll bring a dozen more."

She stood, and he looked up at her as she dusted off her robe. "Anything else?"

"No."

She rubbed her arms and frowned around at the cell. "It's freezing down here," she said. "Are you cold?"

"A little."

"Guard!" she called. The door opened and a guard poked his head inside. "Will you get Remus an extra blanket, please? And see if anyone else wants one as well. It's cold in here."

"Yes, ma'am."

The door closed again and she turned back to Remus. "Do you want me to cast a Warming Charm?"

It was on the tip of his tongue to tell her no, but he reminded himself that there was no benefit to cutting off his own nose to spite his face. He turned away from her again. "Please," he muttered. The humiliation, it seemed, knew no bounds. It was odd that the little things were the ones that were the worst—having her comment about a razor knick on his neck, relying on someone else to cast a simple Warming Charm, asking for the time instead of looking at a clock. Somehow, those were indignities that seemed far worse than being imprisoned in such demeaning circumstances.

She tapped her wand on the wall, and after a moment, a warmth began to seep from the stones. "I'll see you tomorrow," she told him. "Try to get some sleep."

It was the same thing Diana had said. Maybe they knew what they were talking about.

As she reached for the door, the guard returned with a pile of extra blankets, and she took one from him. "Here," she said, shaking it out and spreading it over Remus. "Is that better?"

"Yes. Thank you."

She crouched beside him, patting his face again. "Good night."

"Good night."

When the door closed behind her, the silence threatened to suffocate him. There was a marked difference from that first night when sobs and wails had bounded from all the walls. Of course, for many of the werewolves, this would be the fifth time they'd passed a full moon in Ministry holding cells. He supposed that everything grew easier over time.

He closed his eyes, trying to take Diana's and Lara's advice, but sleep was an elusive nymph, tempting him but never allowing him to catch it. Every so often, someone would ask the guard for the time, and the guard would answer. Seven o'clock, a quarter 'til eight, nine-fifteen, five after ten. Seconds, minutes, hours—time had little meaning in a dark cell with nothing to speed it on its way.

Some time after the guard replied that it was half past midnight, and before anyone asked again, Remus finally found solace in a fitful sleep filled with dreams that he was a pet dog whose owner had lost interest in him.

* * *

_**A/N: waves to everyone** Guess what! I just finished writing TWMD, so those updates will start coming along more regularly tomorrow. I have a bit of editing to do in the next couple of chapters that I have to post, then I think I'll be good for one a week at least (more once I get past a couple of humps in this story-- that darned old criss-crossing timeline thing is a challenge, but I think it only needs to coincide twice more.) Anyway, hope you're all having a fantastic October so far!_

_DiscombobulatedDrummer: Thanks for your encouragement. I'm glad you're enjoying it!_

_excessivelyperky: I guess the point I was trying to make didn't come across very well-- Remus is self conscious because Edward is modelling himself after him, and Remus is acutely aware of that. Thanks for your comments!_

_Cecelle: Thank you! As a writer with no kids and very little experience with them, I'm having a hard time writing those scenes sometimes. It's a delicate balance for me to try to strike, and I do want Remus to get it right. It's always such a big task when you know that how well the characters do depends on how well you do as a writer._

_duj: I was wondering the same thing about Fenrir. I would think that having someone like him around would give all werewolves a worse name than they deserve. Thanks also for the comment about the scenes with Diana and the kids. I stress over those interactions so much._

_Jackline: It still goes along with Tomorrow in a manner of speaking. This is sort of what's going on between the chapters of Tomorrow. Every now and then, they cross paths again, but not very often really._

_hopgoblen: I'm sorry you're disappointed. Really, there isn't going to be a love triangle, and there isn't a lot of 'action' to this story. It's more of an exploration of a social system._

_tall oaks: Thank you! I'm glad to have you back ;)_

_HumanTales: Coincidence? Moi? looks around Never. ;) I'm glad you enjoyed the Arthur scene. I felt like I needed that one in there._

_Thanks to everyone for reading, and thanks for leaving comments. It's always such a thrill to see them sitting in my email. _

_And, incidentally, HPROXMYSOX: if you read this, post something, will ya? I think you said you wre in Louisiana and I've been wondering how you rode through the storms._

_Beta thanks go to larilee, who is simply awesome!  
_


	13. Chapter 13: Don't Underestimate Them

**Chapter 13: Don't Underestimate Them**

_A/N: This chapter falls about a week after chapter 57 of Tomorrow We May Die._

* * *

He woke the next morning to the sound of his name through the barred window of his door. "Remus?" Lara's voice, firm and authoritative, was as beautiful as a song. 

"Yes?"

The keys rattled in the door and she came in, a stack of books in her hands. "Good morning! I brought you some books. Did you sleep well?"

He snorted, taking the books from her hands. "When's the last time you slept on a stone floor?" he asked as he glanced at the titles.

"Never, actually."

"You should try it sometime," he suggested. "It might cure you of asking people who just spent the night on one how they slept."

She laughed a bit. "Believe me when I tell you that you have my full sympathy on that point," she said. "I'd put beds in the cells if I could. It isn't in the Department's Budget this year, though, and every time I bring it up, I'm reminded that we'd likely have to replace or repair all the beds every month."

"How about Cushioning Charms then?" Remus asked, attempting to stretch while remaining covered.

"Cushioning Charms, hrm?" she asked, then shrugged. "I don't see why not." She pointed her wand at the straw pallet and he felt the floor soften beneath him. "Better?"

"Much."

"What else?" she asked, conjuring a chair and table and opening a folder. "Other suggestions?"

"Clocks," he replied.

She smiled and shook her head. "Impractical," she rejoined. "We can't put clocks in every cell and the guards will tell you what time it is if you ask them."

"Clothes, then."

"I'll bring that up again," she promised him. "It wasn't widely accepted last time. The concern is that the Ministry will end up having to foot the cost of extra robes if werewolves forget to undress before they transform. We can't very well send you walking out into the Ministry naked."

"Then make it a stipulation that we bring a spare change of clothes to leave in those boxes. You could put a high shelf on the wall and make the werewolf responsible for his own belongings, and then we could bring in books, clothes, watches, shoes, toothbrushes—whatever we wanted. Perhaps the guards could announce at two hour intervals when the moon will rise."

"All right," Lara said, scribbling frantically. "You're making a very good case."

"And explain to me exactly why we have to be here forty-eight hours before the full moon anyway?"

"Because not all werewolves transform predictably," she replied. "Surely you know that? Particularly when the full moon occurs at unusual times. We have cases of daytime transformations, and—"

"But not forty-eight hours in advance."

"There have been documented cases of transformations twenty-eight hours in advance of the full moon," she replied. "Minister Davis wants us to take no chances. We also have to take into consideration how long it takes to get everyone in and settled. We don't want to be racing the clock to shove werewolves into cells just in time for them to transform."

"Forty-eight hours, Lara," he repeated. "_Two days_."

"I'm afraid that one is non-negotiable."

"I have three complaints about all this," Remus said, wrapping himself tighter in the blanket. "Well, I have many complaints, but they fall into one of three general categories."

"It's inconvenient," Lara prompted him, but he waved her silent.

"Yes, it's inconvenient," he replied. "Being a werewolf is inconvenient. Accepting that as inevitable, the complaints I have that I feel I could expect you to take seriously are that the cells are uncomfortable, it's boring, and it's lonely. Combined, those represent the worst part of this. Being locked in a cold, unfurnished cell for three to five days with nothing to distract you from the condition and no one to share your misery is psychological torture and no one should have to endure it."

"You've been thinking about this quite a lot."

"What time is it?"

"Guard?" Lara called. "What time is it?"

"Ten 'til nine."

She nodded at him.

"I've had fourteen hours with nothing to do but think," he replied. "And that's what I've been thinking about."

"Psychological torture," she said, nodding. "I'm writing that down. Do you have a suggestion for me, or are you just complaining about the general state of things?"

"Am I not allowed to complain?"

"Of course you are," Lara replied. "But when you complain and have suggestions, I'm more likely to be able to do something about it."

He faltered, wondering for the first time if he was going to be going too far. Lara seemed to sense his hesitation.

"Remus? The worst that can happen is that someone will say no."

"I've already suggested the shelves and the Cushioning Charms to make the cells more comfortable. And I still think clocks. Or to dim and brighten the light. Something to give us a sense of time. In the past, I've suggested furniture, and I understand the reasoning behind not having it. Perhaps, though… Even though we're here and we've turned ourselves in forty-eight hours in advance of the full moon, is it necessary for us to be _prisoners_ for that time? If the concern is a logistical one, how to make sure everyone is locked up tight when he transforms, then maybe…"

"Yes?" she prompted when he hesitated again.

"Maybe if you set up community areas, didn't lock the doors. Give us a place to talk with each other, set up a play area for the children, dining tables, chairs and sofas to lounge in, desks to write at. Then, twenty-four hours before the full moon—and I know you said there are documented cases of werewolves transforming at twenty-six hours, but realistically that doesn't happen. Realistically, everyone will transform within thirty minutes of each other, and if one of us _did_ happen to transform earlier, what's going to happen? One of us will be infected again? Really, if everyone is in his cell by five, all the werewolves will be contained, and if someone _were_ to begin the transformation, we all know the signs. The transformation takes nearly three minutes, and that's certainly enough time to _put_ someone in his cell if the need arose."

Lara regarded him with interest. "A common room, essentially?" she asked.

"If you want to call it that."

"I shudder to think of the size of a room it would require for as many werewolves as we house every month—"

"How many are there?"

"More than two hundred. As I was saying, it would take a very large room to accommodate that many—"

"Then you're saying no."

"Will you hush and let me think?" She frowned at him, then stood, pacing back and forth across the cell. "I'm thinking about what the Minister will want to know, and what he's going to want to know is what it would take to do this. It would take a room large enough to comfortably accommodate, say three hundred adults, and it would have to be secure, and it would have to be easily accessible from the cells. That's a tall order, you realize."

"How many cells are there?"

"Four hundred odd. It used to be a prison."

"It still is."

"I'm not going to respond to that." She leaned against the wall, her arms folded. "More realistically, we could probably convert some of the cells into such rooms. Maybe have a room on each corridor. If we combined the two cells at the end of the corridor…"

"Open them into the corridor," Remus suggested. "There's nothing wrong with using the corridor."

"I'll have to think on this some more," she said after a moment. "I need to make sure I have a clear plan before I bring that up. It's the sort of thing that if I can convince the Minister to listen, he might agree to, but getting him to listen will be the trick."

The guard knocked on the door and called, "Breakfast!" as he slid a tray through the slot.

Lara gathered her folder and waved her wand at the conjured table and chair, vanishing them. "I'm going to leave you to your breakfast," she said, retrieving the tray and carrying it to him. She placed it on the floor beside him. "Enjoy your books. Do you want me to leave parchment and a quill in case you have any more ideas? We can talk about them more next—well, no. Next week probably won't be very good. We'll find time to talk about them though."

She handed him parchment and quill and a bottle of ink, then paused at the door. "Anything else?" When he didn't answer right away, she folded her arms. "Remus?"

"A toothbrush?" he asked, not daring to hope.

She laughed. "You'll ask for a common room before you ask for a toothbrush. Has anyone ever told you that your priorities are a little skewed? And did you check in the bathroom cabinet?" she asked, pointing at the narrow door in the side of his cell.

"No, I didn't think…"

"You'll find a toothbrush, toothpaste, soap, razor and comb in there," she assured him. "Compliments of the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures."

"Who used them last month?"

She gave him a withering look. "No one," she replied. "We replace them all every month."

He shook his head. "It's in the budget to replace toiletries for every werewolf every month, but you're not sure if the Minister will agree to shelves on the wall so we can bring our own personal items? That makes perfect sense."

"Eat your breakfast before it gets cold," she said, pointing at the tray. "And let the guard know if you need anything."

After she left, he ate his breakfast, which was just short of cold anyway, then took a lukewarm shower and wrapped up in his blanket again, shivering. He shivered for almost half an hour before he gave in and asked the guard to reset the Warming Charm, which the guard did without question. He read for a while, napped on the newly-softened floor, read a little more, asked the guard for the time and groaned when he discovered it wasn't even eleven. The entire day was a variation on that theme, and not much of a variation. Twice he asked the guard for water, and the guard complied. Mid-afternoon, he tried his luck and asked for tea and got that as well. Some time between a quarter to six and half past eight, he asked for scotch on the rocks and the guard only laughed. It wasn't as bad as he'd remembered it, but it was bad enough.

He could tell when everyone but the guards had left for the evening, and the quiet grew stifling again. He was too restless to keep his mind on the book, despite not having anything else to do, so he lay between his blankets, staring up at the low stone ceiling, nothing but his thoughts and the sound of one of his neighbors snoring to keep him company. He supposed he'd slept too much during the day because he couldn't keep his eyes closed. Or perhaps he was afraid of what he would see if he surrendered to the creeping fatigue.

The cell grew darker as candles burned down and were not lit again, the lighting charms fading and not reset, until only the light of torch flames chased the shadows from corners. The silence grew more oppressive until the roar of his blood and the thudding of his heart threatened to drive him insane. Deprived of his sense of sight, every noise that broke through the silence was deafening—the crunching of the straw as he moved, the bark of someone else coughing, a strangled sob like the dying gasp of a lion, he'd never thought of it in those terms, but sounds against the silence were like a bright light after being trapped in a dim room.

When a scream pierced the pitch black stillness, Remus bolted upright.

"NOOOOO!" came a shriek, followed by a thunderous shout. "GUARD!"

Remus' throat constricted; he recognized that voice, laced though it was with panic.

"Here now, what's wrong?" A much calmer voice drifted down the corridor, and was answered by a ratcheting sob.

"There's a monster in here," Edward said, his quivering voice echoing through the cell block.

Remus stood and walked towards the door of his cell, leaning his head against the barred window, trying to see where Edward was. He must have been nearby.

"What kind of monster?" the guard asked in a friendly, calming voice.

"I don't know."

"Where is it?"

"Under my blanket."

"Well, how did it get there?"

"I don't know."

"I think you're imagining things." It could have sounded patronizing, but it didn't. The guard sounded sympathetic. Remus wrapped his arms around himself, wishing he could do something.

"No I'm not," Edward argued. "There's a monster in here."

"A monster couldn't have got in," the guard was saying. "We've got all kinds of things protecting us. If it tried to get in, it'd be _zapped!_"

"But it's in here," Edward insisted.

Remus closed his eyes.

"You know what I've got?" the guard asked. "I've got some monster-repelling chocolate in my pocket. Do you want a piece of it?"

"No!" Edward was crying now, and Remus felt a tear roll down his cheek as well. "Please make it go away."

"There's nothing for me to make go away," the guard insisted. "Why don't you try to get some sleep?"

"But there's a _monster_ in here!" Edward sobbed.

Footsteps echoed down the corridor, and Remus covered his face with his hand. _This_ was as bad as he'd remembered it being. Edward's fearful whimpers echoed through the stone corridor, and Remus clutched the edge of his blanket. He'd never felt so helpless.

"Hey, guard!" one of the others called. "Can't you do something about that kid?"

"He's scared!" one of the others shouted.

"There's nothing I can do," the guard replied. "Go to sleep."

"How the hell are we supposed to sleep with him crying like that?"

"Do you want me to put a Silencing Charm on his cell?"

"No!" Remus shouted. "He might need something."

"Can't you just show him there ain't no monster?"

"No," the guard answered. "I can't open the door."

"Why not?"

"He's just a kid!"

"He hasn't transformed yet!"

"What the hell kind of guard is scared of a little kid?"

"Be quiet, all of you."

Edward was still sobbing, and more and more voices were adding to the heckling of the guard.

"Just open the damn door and put a light in there!"

"I can't open the door," the guard repeated.

"Why not?"

"BECAUSE I DON'T HAVE A KEY!" the guard shouted.

For a minute, there was silence then a new voice, a low, calm voice, asked, "So if something happened, we'd just be trapped here?"

"Nothing's going to happen," the guard said.

"Right. Just like there ain't no monster in that kid's cell."

"There's not!"

"Boy, listen to me!" one of them shouted. "Are you listening?"

"Y-yes," Edward stuttered.

"That monster in your cell isn't going to hurt you. He's just waiting for his chance to rip out that guard's throat." This was met with a chorus of chuckles.

"Yeah, guard! There's a monster in this cell too. Come take a look."

"Hey, guard!"

"Guard!"

Remus hugged himself tighter, trying without success to block out the jeers.

"All of you, shut up!" the guard yelled. "I mean it! I'm going to—"

"You're going to what?" someone asked. "You can't unlock the doors, remember?"

There was a flash of light, and someone yelped.

"What the hell did you do that for?"

"Shut up!" the guard shouted.

"I saw that! I'm reporting your ass tomorrow!"

"I said shut up!"

"Yeah, when they come in tomorrow to check on us, they better watch their backs. I'm sick of this shit."

Someone coughed, but it wasn't as deafening as the same sound had been earlier. Edward was still sobbing, but his sobs were swallowed by a steady clanging as the thinly veiled threats grew louder and more vehement. Remus retreated to the back of his cell, wrapping his blanket around himself. The Warming Charm was wearing off again, and a cold damp chill was seeping into the cell.

"Murray! What the hell is going on down here?" another voice bellowed from the end of the corridor.

The other werewolves grew quiet instantly.

"Kid at the end of the row thought there was a monster in his cell," the guard replied.

"What's all the noise?"

"Hey! You his boss?"

"Hey, _guard_! That ass-hat used a Stinging Hex on me!"

"He said he ain't got no keys! What kind of guard don't got keys?"

"They're a little agitated," the guard said.

Someone coughed again. There was a deafening roar as the werewolves protested to this description. Remus rather agreed with them. He'd been 'a little agitated' hours ago when he was pacing his cell and bored. This went beyond agitated. The cell block was becoming a murderous throng, and it was probably a good thing they were behind locked doors.

"That fuck-twat can't even be arsed to put a light in a little kid's cell to show the kid there ain't no monster in there!"

"He _hexed_ that bloke!"

"What the hell kind of guard can't unlock a door if he needs to?"

"Murray, out."

"But, sir—"

"I said out. The rest of you, shut up and go to sleep!"

"Guard…" came a hoarse croak from the end of the corridor.

"I SAID SHUT UP! I'm locking off this corridor, and if you haven't found your manners by morning, there won't be any breakfast! Now shut up and go to sleep!"

"YOU CAN'T JUST FUCKING LOCK US IN HERE LIKE WE'RE PRISONERS!"

There was a sound of heavy footfall, then something banged against one of the doors. Someone yelped, someone coughed, and someone sobbed.

"The way I see it, you're behind a locked door in a Ministry dungeon and you can't get out unless someone lets you out. _That_ makes you a prisoner! Now sit the fuck down and shut the fuck up!"

This was met with a roar, but the roar was followed by the slamming of a door. After a minute, there was silence.

"They really left," said a new voice. "Great job, mates."

"Guard…?" came a hoarse voice at the end of the corridor again.

"The guard's gone, man."

There was coughing again, chest-rattling and wheezing until Remus wondered if the cougher was going to be able to take a breath.

"You got some water or something, old man?"

"No…" he whispered hoarsely.

Nightmare. This was a nightmare. Remus wished desperately that he would wake up from it.

"That fucker's going to pay for this."

"Enough with the profanity already!" someone else shouted. "You got a kid at one end of the block and an old man at the other. Can't you say anything that isn't four letters?"

The coughing started again, and Remus stared at the door, pulling his blanket tighter around his shoulders, shivering. The coughing grew louder, and someone started shouting, "Guard!"

There was no guard, and no matter how loud the cell block bellowed, no matter what they did to make noise, to try to draw attention, no one opened the door. The stone walls and floors just grew colder and colder, the air more chilled, the clamoring louder. Edward sobbed, the old man coughed, the tough guy cussed and the torches burned down until there wasn't even a flickering light to cast shadows on the walls.

Remus had no way of knowing what time the coughing stopped, and finally, he drifted to sleep, huddled against a freezing wall.

"What the hell do you mean you told him to abandon his post!"

Lara's voice cut through the silence, and Remus woke, squinting into the dim light. He could see his breath, and he pulled the blanket tighter around him.

"It's _freezing_ down here! It's the middle of the winter and you left these men without heat!" Lara sounded like she was fuming, and the door banged open. "_Lumos_!" Light flooded the cell block, and Remus closed his eyes against it. A chorus of groans rose from the cells around him.

"Get hot food and tea into these cells _now_!" Lara ordered. "And get Healers in here! Half of them probably have pneumonia now!"

Remus stood, his muscles and joints protesting his movement when he'd been curled up in the corner for so long. The door to his cell banged open, and he blinked up at Lara. There were tears in her eyes and her face was red.

"What happened last night?" she demanded. "What—" She stopped abruptly, her eyes on the cup beside the door, which had contained water but now held only ice. She picked it up and peered into it, jerked open the door to the bathroom. Remus could hear the squeaking sound of her attempting to cut on the water, but he could have told her that the pipes were frozen. "GET THESE PEOPLE SOME WATER!" she screamed. "And get Warming Charms in the cells, and get extra blankets and…" She leaned against the doorframe, tears running down her face now. "What happened?" she asked again.

"Be careful," Remus whispered, his voice not cooperating after a night in the cold. "They're angry. The old man…"

"Oh my God! Lara!"

Lara whipped away, slamming the door behind her, and Remus heard a scream. "Get those Healers _now_!" Lara shouted, her voice shaking.

There was a flurry of activity as other people started descending on the cells. Healers came pouring in, and from what he was hearing at the end of the corridor, Remus thought it likely that the old man had died in the night. Someone brought Remus a bowl of oatmeal and a cup of tea, both of which were actually hot, and a few minutes later a pair of Healers in the lime green robes of St. Mungo's descended on him. One of them cast a charm to read all his vital signs while the other measured a potion into a cup and handed it to him. After a few perfunctory questions, another Warming Charm, a Cushioning Charm and a spell that took care of his scratchy throat, they left, closing the door behind them. Remus ate his breakfast in silence.

It was after noon before Lara returned to Remus' cell, looking frazzled and hassled. She sat on the floor beside him, leaning her head into her hands. "I can't believe this happened," she said, staring at the floor. "I don't _want_ to believe this happened."

"The old man…?"

"He died. He was in poor health anyway and we didn't really think he'd make it through the transformation but…" She rubbed her hands over her face. "_Damn_ it, Remus, he didn't deserve to die like that. If there'd been a guard here…"

"Don't. Ifs don't get you anywhere."

She took a deep breath. "I'm sorry. I came in here to see how you're doing, not to unload all my woes on you." She smiled a bit. "You have very broad shoulders, you know."

"So I've been told," he replied.

She moved closer to him, sliding an arm around his back. "How _are _you doing?"

"I'm fine," he assured her. "I'm one of the young and reasonably healthy adults, remember?"

"I'd worry about anyone now," she replied. "You all just survived a night in the ninth ring of hell by my way of thinking." She urged him into her arms and he obliged her, partly out of a desire for the comfort she had to offer and partly out of a desire to comfort her.

"How's Edward?" he asked after a few minutes.

"He's very upset," she answered. "I don't know what he thought was a monster, but I think he thinks it's still in there."

Remus nodded.

"You know, if it weren't so late, I'd take part of your advice right now," she mused. "I'd lock the door at the end of the corridor and unlock all the rest of the doors and let all of you do what you wanted for the rest of the evening. I can't, though. You know that, don't you?"

"I know."

"It would be inexcusable. Someone would be bound to get hurt."

"I know."

She straightened suddenly and looked at him. "How well do you know Edward?"

"I've spent some time with him," Remus replied. "Why?"

"How would you feel if I brought him in here for a few minutes? Would you talk to him? Maybe he'd tell you more than he's telling me."

Remus nodded. "Of course," he said. "I don't mind at all."

"I'll be right back."

She looked tired as she got to her feet, and she took a deep breath as she reached for the door. She disappeared down the corridor, and a few minutes later, the door opened again. Edward, wide-eyed and wrapped in a blanket, stood in front of her looking sullen. As soon as he saw Remus, though, he bolted forward, and Remus barely had time to prepare himself for the force of an eight-year-old slamming against him.

"Remus!"

"Shh," Remus whispered, wrapping his arms around the boy. "It's all right. Everything's all right." A part of his mind was dismayed at how easily the lie he so hated to hear tumbled from his lips, but it wasn't a lie as he meant it. It was reassurance, and after a miserable morning and night, it was reassurance they all needed, however false it might be.

"I didn't mean it to happen!" Edward said, clinging to Remus' neck.

"It's not your fault," Remus assured him. "You didn't do anything wrong."

"There was a monster under my blanket!"

"I know. I'm sorry I couldn't do anything about it," he whispered, stealing a glance at Lara. She was leaning against the wall, watching them.

"I don't want to go back," Edward whispered. "Please don't make me go back. I promise I'll be good, just don't make me go back."

"Edward, listen to me. Do you remember when I told you that this has nothing to do with being good or bad? It still doesn't. This isn't a punishment."

"I hate it. I hate it!"

"I know…"

Lara sat beside them, and reached to smooth Edward's hair. Remus frowned slightly as he felt Edward tense.

"Edward?" Lara asked, her hand resting on his back. Remus tried to give her a warning look, but she wasn't paying attention. Edward felt like a tightly coiled spring in his arms, and Remus tightened his grasp on him.

"Come on," Remus said, nudging Edward a bit. "Let's you and I go make sure that monster's gone for good, okay?"

Edward nodded, and Remus stood, careful to keep his arms around Edward. Lara stood as well and didn't seem to notice Remus' efforts to warn her back. She slipped an arm around Edward's shoulders, and Edward made a low noise that was distinctly animal.

"Let's go," Remus said, steering Edward out into the corridor. He led the boy to his cell, and they made a quick search of it while Lara stood in the doorway. When Edward was satisfied that the monster wasn't there, at least for the moment, Remus gave him a final hug.

"All right," Lara said in far too bright a tone, "if you need anything, Edward, you just let the guard know. And if that monster comes back, we'll make sure we get it this time, right?"

The warning was nothing but a look of hatred that flashed in Edward's eyes before he flew at Lara, and Remus barely had time to snake out an arm and grab him by the waist.

"Out!" he told Lara as he restrained a kicking Edward.

Lara's eyes widened, but she went, shutting the door behind her. As soon as she was gone, Remus crouched in front of Edward, grasping his chin between his fingers.

"Listen to me, Edward. You are a boy, not a wild animal. I do _not_ want to see you doing that again. Is that clear?"

Edward hung his head. "Yes, sir," he whispered.

Remus steered him towards his blankets. "Is it warm enough in here?" he asked.

Edward nodded, lying down, his eyes wide and his mouth turned down in a frown.

"Try to get some sleep," Remus said, pulling the extra blanket over him. "It's going to be a long night."

"Remus?"

"Yes?"

"I didn't mean to."

"I know," Remus said. "But you're going to have to learn not to do the things you don't mean to do. You could really hurt someone, you know."

Edward nodded.

"We'll talk about it later, all right?" Edward nodded again, and Remus squeezed his shoulder. "I'll see you tomorrow."

Remus stepped back into the corridor to find Lara leaning against the wall, pale and trembling slightly. "Is he--?" she began.

"He's an eight-year-old kid who doesn't like you very much right now," Remus said, walking a few steps ahead of her back to his own cell. "And the closer to the full moon we get, the easier it is for him to forget his manners." When they were back in his cell, he lowered his voice. "That's what happened last night as much as anything—emotions were running high and an ill-informed guard wasn't helping. That's just one of the many symptoms. Last night, that guard would have been in danger from several men on this block. From _men_, mind you, not from werewolves. This close to the full moon, make a werewolf angry enough and he can kill with his bare hands, but he'd do it as a human, not an animal."

Lara leaned against the doorframe, looking at him. "You're not being overly emotional," she pointed out.

"I'd say that my calm is an excellent indication that the doses of Wolfsbane that I took this month did their job." He gave her a level look. "Listen to me very carefully, Lara. When I petition for humane treatment, I'm asking for it during the twenty-nine days of the month when we are rational human beings like anyone else. Don't underestimate what it means to be a werewolf for the other one."

She nodded and started to turn to leave.

"And don't underestimate the capacity an eight-year-old has for disliking a woman who hugs him all the time," Remus added. "No boy that age wants to be suffocated like that."

Lara turned back, then laughed a bit. "Is that why he hates me?"

"That and the fact that you're the face of the Ministry that persecutes him, though I wouldn't even expect him to understand that one yet."

"Do you hate me for that reason?"

He looked at the floor, then back at her again and shook his head. "No," he replied. "But that's the reason I'd truly like to hate you."

* * *

_A/N:_

_DiscombobulatedDrummer: Thank you. I'm glad you're enjoying :)_

_cecelle: werewolves and women. You know, I've had discussions with various people on this point, and about the time I come to the conclusion that men or women can be werewolves, I get something else tossed at me to suggest that only men do, then about the time I've locked that in my head, I find something to suggest both do. I think that for the moment, my answer is that there are women, but they're not as common as the men, and Remus does a fair bit of assuming. Remus certainly doesn't deserve it, does he?_

_excessivelyperky: Thank you! I'm glad you're enjoying. Momentarily moving away from the fantasy aspect of the werewolf, I think that the metaphorical explanation is very appropriate here-- the traditional werewolf from (recent) folklore is a mild-mannered person who would never harm a fly, but the wolf is the expression of those carnal urges he suppresses. I imagine it rather like a case of multiple personality disorder, only a very predictable one-- the part that he represses for the majority of the month becomes a personified and independent identity during the full moon. Thus, yes, I try to write Remus as suppressing most of his negative emotions._

_hopgoblen: Maybe this chapter satisfied your desire to see Lupin and Edward together._

_HumanTales: Very observant. One of the Minister's goals (which I know in the back of my mind but I don't know if it's made it into the story or if it will) is that he wants there to be no more werewolves in 100 years. He wants the new infections to stop entirely, and he wants the existing ones contained as much as possible until they die of natural causes._

_Pickledishkiller: Thank you!_

_duj: The antidote but would be very hard to swallow, I thought._

_Kathryn: I've had a couple of people ask about where the chapters fall together in TWMD. The short answer is that they really don't have much to do with each other anymore, but I'm preparing for them to cross again, so I've added a note to this chapter about where it falls._

_Ishkodeikwe: Thank you! I'm glad you're enjoying._

_Thanks to everyone for reading and for taking the time to leave comments. Special thanks belong to LariLee who betas this thing._


	14. Chapter 14: Pity the Stray

**Chapter 14: Pity the Stray**

Even without windows to let in the light, the cell block grew darker as the afternoon waned.

Remus had tried to take a nap, but he couldn't stay still; restlessness was one of the symptoms of the approaching moon. When he was not trapped in an eight-foot by eight-foot cell, the restlessness often proved beneficial, and he'd accomplished many a task while riding the tidal wave of energy the day of the full moon. Cramped into the tiny cell, he could do nothing but pace.

He made use of every inch of the cell for his pacing. His stomach churned, his mouth felt like cotton, his eyes stung, and his head ached. To feel this miserable, he should have had a hell of a wild time the night before.

He was hot, and, finally deciding that his modesty could go to hell, he shed the blanket and paced in the nude. Lara had taken the parchment and pens when she left for the evening, so he couldn't make a note to himself to mention this, which was just one more part of the general discomfort of the cells. The Warming Charms that had made the cells bearable earlier were now stifling, and the pungent odor of twenty-four men sweating threatened to suffocate. The guards had been evacuated for the evening already and would not be back until morning, and by then the Warming Charms would have worn off again, but by then there would be twenty-four men curled up under blankets, shivering.

It was precisely backward.

His fingers tingled, his toes felt numb, his neck was stiff, his back cramping. No matter how many times he stretched, no matter how many times he cracked his knuckles, he couldn't find relief.

His ears were ringing, his nose stuffy, his eyes beginning to water. His skin prickled, as though his entire body had been asleep and was now on pins and needles. He breathed deeply, but couldn't seem to fill his lungs.

When he felt like his chest was going to cave in, Remus returned to the straw pallet, folded his blanket, then waited.

He felt it first in his mouth, and that was the most excruciating part of the transformation. As he closed his eyes against the pain of teeth that normally lay dormant shoving their way through his gums. The acrid taste of blood filled his mouth, and a bitter bile rose in his throat. He was breathing harder now, and he wrapped his arms around himself.

A sudden cramp wrenched at his gut, and he doubled over, folding in on himself until he could compact himself no further. Trembling, he tried to focus on something else, but there was nothing but the floor stones to look at. He squeezed his eyes shut again, and a chill coursed down his spine as he heard the first howl of the night.

The howl was followed by another, then another and another, ear-splitting, blood-curdling sounds that echoed through the cells and ricocheted off the walls. Even knowing that he was one of the safest people in the world just now—that he was locked in a stone cell that he couldn't get out of and no one else could get into, and that even if he _were_ attacked, he couldn't be infected again—the sound of the howls sent sharp daggers of fear to the innermost recesses of his soul.

He tried to block out the howls, but he couldn't. His breathing became shallow, his breaths coming in ragged gasps, and then suddenly, it was as though he'd stepped out of a fog.

He lifted his head, looking around at the cell, disoriented. His vision was clearer, but there was nothing to look at and that struck him as odd at first. His hearing was sharper, but the howls and whimpers of his companions no longer sent chills up his spine; they struck a chord of loneliness in his heart. He shook himself and padded across the cell, his claws clicking on the floor stones.

Another howl, lonesome and longing, filled the cell block, and he could hear the difference between it and the responding call. He curled up in the corner closest to the door, his chin resting on his front paws as he listened to the mournful exchange.

The Wolfsbane potion allowed him to keep his mind, but his thoughts were still decidedly wolfish, in as much as they were thoughts at all. The part of his mind that knew language had been replaced with a part of his mind that sifted scents and sounds into useful information, so he did not have the words to express, even to himself, the creeping despair of solitude. When one of the others called, though, his ears perked, then lay flat again as he remembered that he could not join them.

That was the difference between taking the Wolfsbane and not taking it—when he took it, he remembered that it would do no good to rage against the walls and doors that bound him. When he did not, he would have spent half the night trying to find a way to join his brothers. As it was, he spent half the night listening to them trying to find a way to join each other.

* * *

"…cold down here. Get some more blankets…"

Detached voices floated in and out of his mind, like fireflies flickering in the distance. He could hear them, but he didn't understand one word in ten.

"…wonder how long he's been here…"

He was cold and stiff, and every joint in his body ached. His ears were ringing, his head was pounding, his throat was scratchy, his shoulder and hip were particularly sore. He felt hands on his back, and the world spun as he was repositioned. He didn't have to open his eyes to know that his orientation had just changed.

"…doesn't appear to have any injuries…"

He was lifted off the floor, his arms and legs hanging limply, fingers and feet brushing against the cold stones. A warm, soft cotton enveloped him, and when he was lowered, it was to a softer surface than the floor. His head was lifted, then lowered onto a cushion of some sort.

"…stiff and cold, probably in a fair bit of pain, but all right…"

He forced his eyes open, and saw nothing but a blinding green that made his eyes hurt. He closed them again, deciding he didn't care to see what was going on after all.

"Remus? Remus, look at me."

His head felt like it weighed a ton, but he turned it towards the sound of the voice and opened his eyes again. He recognized that face, plump and pretty with rosy cheeks and soft eyes, but he couldn't remember her name.

"Remus, do you know if someone is coming to get you this morning?"

Something was wrong with that question. "Saturday," he rasped. That was it. It was Saturday, and that meant something.

Her face darkened for a moment, then she smiled at him, smoothing his hair. "Yes," she replied. "It's Saturday." He closed his eyes again, deciding that his part in the conversation was over.

"Take him or not?"

"Go on and take him," she said. "I'm not even sure anyone knows he was here. If anyone comes looking for him, I'll send them your way."

He felt a hand on his shoulder, then he was lifted. They kept turning him, one way and then another until he couldn't keep up with which way he was pointing. He'd worry about that later. Right now, he'd sleep.

The first thought that clawed its way to the surface of the chaos that was his consciousness was that the floor was softer than he remembered it being. It didn't seem out of place to think this because he always woke curled up on the floor after a full moon, and even in his disoriented state, he recognized that he was awaking after a full moon. That should mean that he was curled up somewhere—in a storage room at headquarters or a dank root cellar or a Ministry holding cell, possibly on the floor in his bedroom or in his office if he'd had access to the Wolfsbane this month. Months faded together if he wasn't careful, so he was never entirely sure upon waking whether he remembered the night before or the month before or three years before.

He opened his eyes, then closed them again, his pupils rebelling against the bright light. Whatever month it was, it would still be that month when he woke again.

When he woke again, it was still bright, though the brightness wasn't as blinding as it had been. After blinking a few times, his surroundings came into focus. He was in a bed, but not a familiar one. The plain white sheet was soft, as though it had been washed many times, and the blanket was light. He rested at a slight incline, and when he turned his head, instead of the wall that he was expecting, he saw a white curtain, partially drawn. He turned his head the other direction, and saw another bed, with another partially drawn curtain.

A glass of water sat on the table beside him, and seeing it made him realize how parched his lips were. He reached for it, then stopped, frowning as he noticed that he was wearing a robe that was not his. Forgetting the water, he leaned back against his pillow, frowning at his surroundings.

"Ah, you're awake. I thought I saw you move."

He turned his head towards the sound of the voice and found a smiling witch standing at the foot of his bed, her lime green robe blinding against all the sterile white. His face must have shown how perplexed he felt, because she patted his thigh as she drew closer to his side.

"You're in St. Mungo's," she said. It was a needless explanation; he knew that much.

"How..?" he began, but his voice was dry and raspy, reminding him that he wanted that glass of water. He reached for it, but she reached it first, and steadied his hands between hers as he drank.

"How did I get here?" he asked after he'd finished the water.

"We brought you," she replied. "Now lie back." He obeyed, and she flicked her wand at him, sending a ribbon of pale yellow light rippling over his chest and head. When the light receded, she tapped a box on the wall, and a piece of parchment came out of it. "Are you ready for something to eat?" she asked as she looked over the parchment.

Remus nodded, and the witch cleared a spot on the table, then waved her wand in a slow circle over it. A tray of food appeared, and tantalizing smells wafted to Remus' nose. She leaned over him, lifted him into a seated position and conjured a few extra pillows to prop behind his back.

"How's that?" she asked.

"Fine, thank you."

She tapped the table with her wand and it extended over the bed. She lifted the cover from the dish, and Remus sighed wistfully—a bowl of broth was not his idea of the perfect meal after being trapped in the Ministry for…

"What day is it?" he asked, frowning again.

"Saturday," she replied, unfolding his napkin and dropping it in his lap.

"How did I get here again?"

"Some of our Healers brought you from the Ministry," she answered, picking up his spoon. She dipped the spoon into the broth and held it to his lips. "Slowly," she instructed. "It may be too hot."

He had little choice but to take the spoonful of broth, as she was pressing the spoon against his lips, but after he swallowed, he reached for the spoon. "Why?" he asked.

"Why? Because we keep it heating until—oh, you mean why you're here?"

"Yes."

"We always take in the werewolves no one picks up. You'll stay here until someone comes to get you or until you're well enough to leave on your own. A little more broth?" She took the spoon away from him, apparently not satisfied with his ability to eat on his own, and pressed another spoonful to his lips, once again giving him the choice of swallowing or spilling it all over himself.

"Always since when?" he asked, taking the spoon away from her again.

"Since August," she replied. He swallowed more of the broth in an attempt to keep her from trying to feed him again. "In August, there were still werewolves in the cells almost a week after the full moon, so the Ministry called us to take them. Since then, we come mid-morning the first day after the full moon."

"But you said it's Saturday."

"It is."

"The Ministry is closed on Saturday."

"Well, yes and no. Miss Berkeley decided that since the full moon fell on a Friday night that it would be cruel to keep you all in the cells over the weekend. Don't you want a little more broth?"

He'd paused, and she took the opportunity to reach for his spoon again.

"No," he said, placing his hand over hers. "I'm not hungry after all."

"You need to eat," she chided. "Just a few more bites? For me?" She pressed the spoon against his lips again, and at her coaxing, he finished half the bowl and drank the glass of juice she'd brought him. It was hard to convincingly tell someone that he wasn't hungry when he knew she could hear his stomach growling.

"What time is it?" he asked as she rearranged his pillows again, then lowered him back onto the bed.

"About three," she replied. "Get some more sleep?"

That, at least, was easy to do.

When he woke again, he was half expecting to be told to go home, but instead he was served another bowl of beef broth and another glass of apple juice, this time under the supervision of a young wizard.

"Can't I have real food?" Remus asked. It never hurt to ask.

The wizard grinned and patted his shoulder. "You're getting stronger if you think you're ready for solid food. Maybe tomorrow. It's not a good idea right now, though. Your stomach is still weak."

Remus gave him a skeptical look, and the pause was apparently long enough to prompt the green-clad wizard to decide Remus wasn't going to eat on his own. He proved more difficult to get the spoon back from, and Remus didn't have the energy for the fight. The wizard spooned almost the entire bowl of broth down Remus' throat, then suggested that he get some more sleep as he turned out the light and drew the curtain around the bed. As Remus drifted off to sleep again, he wondered if this was more or less dignified than spending the day in the cell would have been.

Remus woke three more times during the night, and each time, a new witch or wizard appeared at his bedside. He suffered the humiliation of being escorted to the toilet by a pink-cheeked young witch he might have flirted with under other circumstances, and he obligingly consumed two more bowls of broth and enough juice to float a ship. When he woke for the sixth time, it was after dawn on Sunday morning, and he was one of three who remained on the ward.

"So who do I have to bribe to get to go home?" he asked the witch who brought his breakfast—dry toast and tea seemed almost a feast after a day of broth.

The witch laughed. "We'll keep you here until someone comes to fetch you or until you're strong enough to fend for yourself," she replied, patting his shoulder.

He hid a scowl in his teacup; he was _tired_ of feeling like a stray animal. At least there was light at the end of the tunnel. If Diana had notified Arthur or Dumbledore or Severus as he'd asked her to, then someone should be coming to collect him soon enough. Waiting for someone to come took less energy than arguing, and as he settled back into the bed, he rationalized that there was really very little difference between spending the morning asleep in St. Mungo's and spending the day asleep at headquarters.

If anything, it was quieter here.

He passed the morning drifting in and out of sleep, and at noon, one of the witches from earlier nudged him awake and suggested that he have lunch. He agreed after a few weak protests—he'd been hoping that he would be having one of Molly's meals for lunch. Over-cooked pork chops were a poor substitute even for Diana's unimpressive dinners. He ate half the meal, then settled back in the bed again, waiting.

Once, he considered just leaving, but the thought lacked appeal. The hospital robe was something less than modest, he didn't have his shoes and he didn't have his wand, and he didn't think he'd get far in London in the state he was in.

The afternoon dragged on.

Every time he tried to sit up, one of the Healers would rush over to him, and the attention was beginning to grate on his nerves, so he stopped sitting up. For lack of anything better to do, he went back to sleep. His naps became shorter, alternating with periods of lying in the bed and staring at the door.

Once, the door opened and an elderly wizard arrived, offering a folder to the supervising Healer. A few minutes later, one of the remaining werewolves left, clad in a shabby robe, his head hanging. It had started to grow dark again when a witch came with his dinner. He thanked her, and left the tray sitting untouched on the bedside table. Surely someone would come before nightfall. They wouldn't leave him here.

Would they?

Apparently they would. At nine o'clock, a disembodied witch's voice announced that visiting hours had ended. One by one, the lights went out on the ward until the only two left burning were the one by his bed and the one across the room, by the other werewolf's bed.

"Don't you want to have some dinner?" asked the wizard who had spooned broth down his throat the day before.

"No."

"You need to eat something. You'll never regain your strength if you don't."

"I'm not hungry."

"Just a few bites? The roll, perhaps?"

Remus sighed, and sat up, not bothering to protest as the wizard arranged the pillows behind his back. The roll was tasteless, but he ate it, along with a few bites of carrots and one spoonful of pudding. The wizard just shook his head as he took the tray away, leaving Remus to lie down again.

Some time after eleven, his light went out, and he stared into the darkness, alone with his thoughts as he had been so often over the past few days. His mind flitted over the shock of discovering he was going to have to stay at the Ministry, and it danced past those first two horrible nights in the cells. Everything anyone in the Ministry did or had done paled in comparison to lying in this bed, staring at the shadowy form of the curtain, knowing that he could have been at headquarters if anyone had cared enough to come get him.

_And what prevents you from just leaving?_ asked an annoyingly practical voice.

He had a dozen excuses, including but not limited to the fact that his clothes and wand and what little money he'd had in his pockets were presumably still locked in Lara's office. He supposed he could manage to find his way back to the Black house without his things, but when it came down to it, he didn't want to.

He wanted someone to come and claim him.

He wanted Molly to come and pick him up, to bustle him back to the basement kitchen and plunk a plate of whatever she'd cooked for dinner in front of him and to bustle around, clucking her tongue and mothering him.

Barring that, he wanted Arthur to come and put a hand on his shoulder and to chase Molly away, telling her firmly that he needed to rest. Or he wanted Dumbledore to come with his twinkling eyes and offer him candy while they made their way back to headquarters. Or he wanted Severus to come and tell him bluntly to get up off his arse and get dressed because he had no intention of carrying him.

He'd have settled for anyone, but he wanted _someone_ to give enough of a damn to put aside their busy lives and come for him.

If it were anyone else in the Order, he'd have been there as soon as the Ministry allowed it. He wouldn't have left anyone to spend even one extra night in this place. He would never let any of his friends wonder if anyone even remembered they were alive.

With such pleasant thoughts to keep him company, the night crept by at a snail's pace.

* * *

"I'm sorry. My hands are tied. Surely you understand regulations, Arthur?"

"Damn it, Lara! I don't want to hear about regulations."

Lara folded her arms and stared at her bookshelf, her back to her uninvited guest. This was the third time she'd had this conversation with a member of the Weasley family—first it had been Molly, who was quite difficult to put off; then it had been the eldest boy, whom she remembered as a classmate. Now it was Arthur, who was always so mild-mannered and understanding, and who worked for the Ministry and should really understand what it meant to be bound by rules and regulations.

"Put yourself in my shoes, Arthur," she said, trying to reason with him again. "I'm responsible for the safety and well-being of all those werewolves who turn themselves in. Am I supposed to believe the word of every witch or wizard who comes in claiming to be a friend of one of them? Remus noted two contacts—Albus Dumbledore and Severus Snape. So unless you can prove to me that you're one of those two wizards, there's nothing I can do."

"Albus is in Switzerland," Arthur argued. "I told you that. He's at an International Magical Education Standards conference. I can't get in touch with Severus. I've been trying. You remember that day when you and Remus spoke to me in the corridor. He sent a witch to tell me that he was even here!"

"I can't, Arthur. Remus selected his contacts, and he didn't mention you."

"Then go ask him if he wants to come with me! I'm not proposing you let me just levitate him out into the streets of London." Arthur walked around Lara's desk and bent so that he was eye level with her. "He's a _friend_. Can't you appreciate that? I don't want to know that he's locked up in one of those cells. I just want to take him home. Don't you think he'd rather be at home?"

"Does he have a home?" she asked, looking at Arthur. "He won't give us an address. He just says to send his post care of Albus Dumbledore and he insists that—"

"He can stay at my home," Arthur interrupted.

"I thought your home burned down over the summer?"

Arthur spun away from her. "Stop changing the subject! Just _ask_ him, Lara. _Ask_ him if he wants to come with me."

"I can't," she snapped. "He isn't here."

"Then where is he?"

"I've already told you more than I'm supposed to."

"Lara—"

"Arthur, if you don't stop harassing me, I'm going to call the guards. It is my _job_ to see to the welfare of the werewolves in the United Kingdom and I can't do that if I'm taking out an ad in the _Prophet _announcing their whereabouts."

Arthur folded his arms and stared at her for a minute, his face clouded with more than sympathy for a werewolf. It didn't take much by way of imagination to guess that he wasn't impressed with the implication that he couldn't be trusted.

"Fine," he said, reaching for the door. "Just think about something, would you? Just how are you helping him by keeping him away from his friends?" He slammed the door behind him, and she sank into her chair.

She picked up Remus' folder and opened it, skimming the information for what must have been the hundredth time since she'd sent him to St. Mungo's. Nothing had changed. He had listed two contacts, and she wasn't even supposed to give out their names. She believed Arthur when he said he was Remus' friend, though, and she had hoped that he would be able to get in touch with either Snape or Dumbledore.

Saturday afternoon, and again on Sunday, Lara had been tempted to send an owl to Hogwarts, but she wasn't supposed to do that either. There was a long list of things she wasn't supposed to do, and they all came down to a single, simple rule: she was not supposed to get involved.

She wasn't supposed to touch them, she certainly wasn't supposed to wrap them in her arms. She wasn't supposed to invite them to dinner, nor to allow anyone except care-givers into the room with them. She did all of those things, though. When Edward Murphy wanted Remus to accompany him, Lara left the decision up to Remus and Edward's mother. When Severus Snape came bursting into the room while she was conducting a monthly interview with Remus, she suffered his presence because Remus seemed not to mind his being there. She tolerated a lot that she wasn't supposed to allow.

And she was tempted to hand Remus' belongings over to Arthur Weasley and allow Arthur to sign him out. After all, Arthur was another Ministry official and she _did_ remember him recognizing Remus, and Remus recognizing him in return.

She also remembered the cool reception Remus had given him.

She remembered a comment Remus had made to Snape about 'Molly's cooking'. But Molly was a common name and could have referred to any number of women.

She wanted to get Remus out of St. Mungo's, but that wasn't her decision. She'd signed Remus over to the Healers, and it wasn't her place to decide if he was capable of making decisions about his well-being. The report she had this morning stated that Remus Lupin was one of two werewolves remaining on the ward that had been set aside specifically for that purpose, and that Remus was not showing any indication of being capable of or interested in caring for himself. The notes on his report indicated that he was 'passive' and 'not eating without coaxing'. He hadn't shown any interest in getting out of his bed, and the time he spent sleeping indicated that he was still suffering the trauma of the transformation.

Lara thought it more likely that he was suffering the trauma of his imprisonment—he didn't take to that as well as some of the other werewolves had. When she thought about what he'd said about psychological torture, she thought it quite probable that his seeming disinterest was born of depression, not an inability to care for himself. He was the last one she would have considered incapable of caring for himself.

That wasn't her call, though, any more than it was her call to give his belongings to Arthur.

Perhaps, though, she would be justified in calling on Remus. After all, she had an appointment at St. Mungo's later this morning to begin documenting the new bites, so perhaps it wouldn't be too much of a stretch that she would check on the two werewolves still on the ward.

Feeling a little better about the situation, she looked at her clock—her first appointment would be as soon as they opened the doors.

A little after ten, Lara Apparated to St. Mungo's, only a few minutes before she was scheduled to begin. Her appointments this morning had taken longer than she'd anticipated, and she'd had the very unpleasant duty of trying to explain to Cynthia Reynolds how her father had died in Ministry custody. Lara knew that the explanation did not satisfy the zealous witch, and she was sure she hadn't heard the end of it, but Cynthia had left her office finally.

Weighing her options, Lara tried to decide if it would be the lesser of the evils to visit Remus first and get a late start on the rest of her morning, or to arrive to her appointment early and hopefully finish ahead of schedule, then have time for a leisurely conversation with Remus over lunch.

She decided to pay him a visit first.

When she walked into the ward, what she saw horrified her, and she forgot all about her ten-thirty meeting. The new werewolves could wait.

Remus lay curled on his side in the bed, the blanket clutched in his fist, a tray of food untouched on the table beside him. When Lara drew near him, she saw the blank expression on his face, and it sent a chill down her spine—he looked like a man who had given up.

"Remus?" She dropped her briefcase on the floor and placed a hand on his shoulder. He didn't so much as twitch an eyelash. Smoothing his hair back from his forehead, she leaned over him. "Aren't you even going to say hello?"

He raised his eyes to her for a moment, then averted them again, saying nothing.

"I'll settle for 'go to hell'," she joked, but he closed his eyes. Her heart wrenched.

She moved to the other side of the bed and sat gingerly beside him, bracing her hands on his shoulders. As she turned him onto his back, he didn't protest.

"I don't really need to ask how you're doing, do I?" she asked, prying his fingers off the blanket so she could hold his hand. "I suppose it's as good a conversation starter as anything else, though, isn't it? How are you feeling?"

His response was a puff of air, redolent of a disbelieving snort.

"That good, huh?" Lara asked, massaging his palm. He tried to turn away from her, but she stopped him with a hand on his cheek. "Look at me, Remus," she said softly, brushing her thumb against his cheek. "I need you to talk to me."

He closed his eyes again. "What do you expect me to say?" he asked, his voice hoarse and broken.

"I had a report this morning that you're not taking much interest in your recovery. Maybe you could start by telling me what happened to the man who reads every scrap of parchment before signing it?"

"It doesn't do any good," he replied, his tone expressionless. "It doesn't matter if I read it or not, I'm going to sign it because I have no other option. And this is what the Ministry wants, isn't it? Compliance."

"Compliance," Lara agreed. "Not complacency."

"What do you want from me?"

"I want you to convince the Healers that you're capable of taking care of yourself, just like you and I both know you are, so that you can go home."

"So that I can come back next month."

"Remus, listen to me. You don't want to spend the rest of your life in this bed. I don't understand what you're waiting for."

"I don't expect you to understand."

She squeezed his hand. "Would you say that I'm generally a compassionate person?" she asked. "Not that I have an innate understanding of everything, but that in general, I care?"

After a brief hesitation, he nodded.

"All right. I try very hard to listen and to understand when you bring concerns to me. Would you say that I succeed? Again, I know that sometimes your quibble is that you shouldn't have to point these things out to me, but when you do, would you say that I listen?"

He nodded again.

"And would you say that I respond to your concerns? Maybe not with the answer you want to hear, but do I respond and take action where I can?"

His nod was barely perceptible this time.

"So is it, perhaps, a logical conclusion that even if I don't necessarily pick up on everything I should, that I am willing to learn from you and to look at situations from your perspective?"

He nodded again, averting his eyes.

She brushed her thumb against his cheek again, and he looked back at her. "I need you to help me see this from your perspective," she said, her eyes searching his. "I can't help if I don't know what's wrong."

For a moment, he looked as though he might respond. Only for a moment, though.

"Remus?"

"I'm just tired," he said at last.

She knew better than that. She had eyes and she could see that his eyes had become dull and lifeless. She had ears and she could hear that his voice was flat and broken. She had a report that told her that he'd spent the last two days in bed and that there was nothing physically wrong with him. She didn't have to be a Healer to know that 'tired' was a euphemism for 'depressed', and she was reasonably certain that she knew the cause for his depression.

"Five days is a long time, isn't it?" she asked, shifting so that she could drape an arm around his shoulders.

He stiffened, but she pulled him closer, and after a series of false starts, he leaned against her.

"I spoke with Arthur Weasley this morning. He was asking after you."

"I hope you told him to go to hell."

Lara's eyes widened and she frowned at the top of Remus' head, suddenly relieved that she _hadn't_ told the Weasleys where to find him. "Not on the best of terms with Arthur?"

"Not at the moment."

She smoothed his hair, and he flinched, so she dropped her hand. "Is there anything I can do to help?" she asked, tightening her embrace a bit.

"No." His fingers flexed within her palm, though, and then he amended, "Nothing that you're not already doing."

"I wish I could sit here all day," she whispered, hugging him closer. She touched his hair hesitantly, and he didn't flinch away this time, so she began smoothing it away from his face again. "You know I can't, though."

"I know."

"I have to go to a meeting. I should already be there, in fact, but I wanted to check on you. I'll come see you again before I leave. All right?"

He nodded, and pulled away from her. She had a brief glimpse of his face before he turned onto his side, his back to her as he curled up. His mouth was open, his eyes closed, a deep line furrowing his brow. He looked as though someone had poured alcohol over open wounds.

"I'll see you in a couple of hours," she said, reaching for her briefcase. "Oh, and I brought you something." She opened the case and pulled out the book he'd been reading on Friday when she collected it from him.

He smiled a bit. "Thank you," he whispered.

She smiled in return, placing the book on the table by his bed and leaning down to kiss his forehead. "Don't mention it at all."


	15. Chapter 15: Resuce

**Chapter 15: Resuce**

Remus lay staring at the curtain for several minutes after Lara left, trying to gather his spent composure. When she'd first put her arm around him, he'd finally understood what it was that made Severus recoil from a touch—not an aversion to the touch itself, but to the raw and fearful knowledge that the touch would end.

He felt simultaneously stronger and weaker after she left. Her visit, however brief, had been what he needed, but it also set his solitude in even sharper contrast now that she was gone.

Arthur had asked after him. The fucking nerve. _Ask, but don't arse yourself with doing anything, by all means._ It was almost enough to pull anger to the forefront of his emotions. Almost, but not quite.

He lay staring at the curtain until a magenta-robed Healer-in-training brought him a tray of lunch and helped him into a seated position. That was what Lara had been talking about when she said the Healers didn't think him capable of caring for himself. He'd taken to letting them do what they wanted and he'd stopped arguing. It just wasn't worth it.

After lunch, he settled back into the bed and closed his eyes, trying to go to sleep. Sleep eluded him, though, and finally he reached for the book Lara had left. A brief smile touched his lips as he saw that she had taken the time to mark his place. It wasn't that good a book, and for a mystery, the plot wasn't very complex. He thought that he would have solved the supposed mystery if his heart had been in it, but he didn't care enough to think about it. It was a distraction, and after two days of staring at the curtain, it was a welcome one.

At some point, he rolled over and stuffed his pillow behind his back so he could prop himself up a bit. He had no idea that anyone was around until something landed across his thighs, followed by a harsh and familiar voice.

"I wonder what it would be like to have nothing better to do than lie in bed reading at one o'clock on a Monday afternoon."

Remus looked up to find Severus standing at the end of his bed, arms folded across his chest, one eyebrow raised. Remus looked down at the box on his lap, then back up at Severus again.

"Allow me to rephrase. Get your arse out of that bed and get dressed unless you want me to parade you to the nearest tube station just like you are."

Remus' hand hovered over the box, then he dropped it on the floor. "Go to hell, Severus." Yesterday he had thought that he would have been pleased to hear the sarcasm and the snide remarks. Today, it was one more thing he didn't have the energy for. He returned to his book.

"I don't have time for this kind of crap, Lupin. Get up!" Severus snatched the book away from him and dropped it on the bedside table. "I have exactly one hour and ten minutes free, and I've already spent twenty minutes of it at the Ministry signing the damn paperwork. Now get out of that bed!"

"Sir, lower your voice, please." A Healer in a lime-green robe appeared behind Severus, his arms folded. "If you're going to mistreat the patients, I'll have to ask you to leave."

Severus narrowed his eyes. "Very well," he replied, waiting until the Healer was gone before turning back to Remus. "I will not say it again. Get _up_."

"Fuck off, Severus. I've been here almost three days. If you were in such a bloody hurry, you might have come on Saturday when you _didn't_ have a class schedule to follow." He reached for the book again. "I'm fine where I am."

"Fine where you—" Severus sputtered for a moment, then pinched the bridge of his nose. "I don't believe this. You're not just staying here indefinitely."

"Why not?" Remus asked, not looking up from the book he wasn't reading. "I have nowhere else to go."

"I'm sure Molly would beg to differ."

"I'm not going back to that house."

There was silence, then, from the corner of his eye, Remus saw Severus moving. Severus sat on the edge of the bed and placed his hand over the book, lowering it. "Why not?" he asked.

"I'm not discussing this."

"That's my line."

"If it works for you, it should work for me."

"Very well," Severus said, waving his wand at the floor beside the bed. A chair appeared, and he sank into it. "I'll have you know that Minerva's going to have my arse on a platter if I'm not back at the school in time for my next class."

"Then go."

"I'm not leaving this hospital without you."

"Why are you here?"

Severus raised an eyebrow. "I thought I'd made that very clear already, but perhaps not. I'm here to pick you up and take you home. Or, in the event that you don't want to go home—which I don't understand, incidentally—I'm here to pick you up and take you somewhere you _do_ want to go."

Remus sighed and folded his arms across his stomach, looking away. "Go away."

"Remus, please. Can't we have this conversation while we're on our way to wherever—"

"I'm not going anywhere with you. Just leave."

"Listen to me, you prat—"

"No, you listen to me," Remus snapped, turning his head back to Severus. "I'm terribly sorry that coming here is an inconvenience that doesn't fit nicely into your schedule. Again, I propose that if you'd been here on Saturday, that wouldn't have been a concern—"

"I don't guess I've had the chance to tell you that Dumbledore called the lot of us to task for not being in the school often enough."

"So he allowed it on a Monday afternoon, but it would have been out of the question on a weekend. Somehow, I find that hard to believe."

Severus' expression softened a bit. "Dumbledore doesn't know I'm here. He's in Switzerland, at a conference."

"Oh."

"Is that what this is about?" Remus didn't answer right away, and Severus placed a hand on his stomach. "I'm sorry," he said quietly. "I wish I had a halfway decent excuse, but I don't."

"I'd listen to the bad one."

Severus looked at him for a moment, then smirked. "I had an experience this morning that I haven't had in some years," he said. "A Howler. At lunch. From the Ministry of Magic."

"A Howler?"

"Yes. A Howler. Went off in front of two thousand, seven hundred and forty-six students, demanding to know why I hadn't responded to their correspondence. Needless to say, I didn't linger in the Great Hall very long after that. I returned to my office and opened the drawer I've been tossing my unopened post into since Thursday, and there they were—six letters from the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures requesting an immediate response. Something about a tainted batch of Wolfsbane and a formal investigation. I have an appointment on Friday to discuss this with Miss Lara Berkeley. And, since I was reading my mail for the first time in ten days, I looked through the rest of it as well. Do you know what else I found in that pile of post?"

Remus shook his head, though he thought he had an idea.

"Four letters from Molly Weasley, one from Arthur, one from Bill, all informing me that I needed to come pick a friend up from the Ministry because the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures wouldn't release your information to anyone who wasn't on your list of contacts. One letter from a former student informing me that you had been unexpectedly detained."

Severus reached for Remus' hand. "As I said, I don't even have a half-decent excuse, and I can only imagine how it must have looked that I didn't care enough to come. That I didn't think doesn't mean that I didn't care."

Thoughtless or uncaring, the end result was the same, and Remus struggled to convince himself that there was a difference.

"It doesn't take someone who is keen on human nature to know that must have hurt," Severus continued.

"It did," Remus whispered.

"I'll take responsibility for that one," Severus said. "I don't blame you if you're angry with me, but let me take you out of here at least."

"Thank you," Remus said, squeezing Severus' hand.

"Was that suitably compassionate?"

Remus chuckled in spite of himself. "Yes."

"Good." Severus reached behind him and jerked the pillow out from under Remus' head, then dropped it on his face. "Now get out of that bed and get dressed. Twenty-six minutes."

Remus scowled and lobbed the pillow at Severus. "Get out."

"Shit. I thought you were—"

"Severus?"

"What?"

"I don't need an audience."

Severus smirked, but stepped away from the bed, flicking his wand to vanish the conjured chair and drawing the curtain.

Remus dressed quickly, his legs a bit wobbly but otherwise feeling the first surge of energy he'd felt in a week. As he pulled on his shoes and knotted the laces, he felt foolish for thinking his friends would have just left him here. The euphoria lasted until he imagined walking back through the door at headquarters and facing the people he'd dismissed so easily. By the time he stepped through the curtain, his wand in his pocket and box tucked under one arm, he had sobered somewhat.

"Do you have everything?" Severus asked.

"Yes," Remus replied.

"Come on."

Remus followed him to the front desk, the last lingering vestiges of his elation fading as Severus signed the appropriate documents that meant Remus' freedom. He was given a stack of papers—copies of the documents he'd signed, pamphlets about the appropriate diet for a werewolf post-transformation, brochures on Ministry-funded housing for werewolves, a list of contacts at St. Mungo's, a packet containing instructions for cleaning the bite and a copy of the Werewolf Code of Conduct.

"Why do we need these?" Severus asked, pointing at the last two.

"Standard part of the discharge paperwork," the witch replied in a bored voice. "All werewolves get them."

Severus and Remus exchanged glances, but Remus just shook his head and reached for the stack of parchments. "Not worth the argument," he told Severus. Past experience told him it would be easier to accept the papers than to convince the witch to keep them. After all, she had a policy she was following, no doubt.

Severus shrugged and signed the last of the parchments, then handed the quill to Remus to scrawl his name on them as well. A few minutes later, they emerged onto the street, blinking in the over-bright sunlight.

"Are you still not keen on going home?" Severus asked, reaching for Remus' box.

Remus surrendered it, amazed at how exhausted he was after three days in bed. "I don't think I can face Weasleys just yet," he replied. "You really don't have to stay with me. I'll just find somewhere to—"

"Like hell you will. How does Hogwarts sound?"

Remus snorted. "From one hospital to another. Wonderful."

"You needn't stay in the hospital wing if you don't want to," Severus replied. "You're welcome to my rooms if you want them. They're a little more comfortable and quiet, at least."

He thought about it for a minute, then nodded. "All right."

"Do you think you can Apparate?"

"To Hogwarts?"

"No, Remus. To Beijing. I thought we'd take a detour for some Moo Goo Gai Pan before we went back to Hogwarts."

"Can you even get Moo Goo Gai Pan in China?"

"No idea. Do you feel up to Apparating to just outside the Apparition boundaries at Hogwarts and walking the rest of the way to the school?"

Remus hesitated.

"If you don't think you can, just say so," Severus said. "I don't want you splinching on me."

"I don't know," Remus replied.

"Come on, then," Severus said, shifting the items he was carrying to his other hand. He nodded towards an alley, and as they turned towards it, he slid an arm around Remus' back. Remus held onto him as Severus Disapparated. They emerged at the edge of the Forbidden Forest.

"You all right?" Severus asked, still providing the support of his arm.

Remus spent a moment steadying himself, glad he'd had the sense not to try that alone.

"You can always stay with Hagrid, of course," Severus said, nodding towards the hut. "I'm sure he'd—"

"Your rooms are fine," Remus interrupted. "Thanks for the hospitality."

Severus snorted. "Come on, then."

Most of the students were in class, and those who were not were too preoccupied with their studies or their friends to take notice of the Potions master helping a former Professor down to the dungeons. Remus settled into a chair in Severus' sitting room while Severus lit a fire and summoned a house-elf.

"Master Lupin is going to be here for a few hours," Severus informed the elf. "See to it that he has a meal worth eating and get him anything he wants." He turned to look at Remus. "Make yourself at home. If you want a shower or something, I'm sure the house-elves would be more than happy to do your laundry."

"Is that your subtle way of suggesting I need to bathe?"

"I wouldn't call it a subtle suggestion, no."

"Thank you," Remus said, his smile lingering for a moment.

Severus patted his shoulder. "Not at all."

When Severus left, Remus took his advice to have a shower and left his clothes with the house-elf to launder. He spent almost half an hour under the jets of warm water, attempting to scrub the memory of the last week out of his hair and off of his skin. It was no use, but by the time he gave up, he was sure he looked and smelled better.

The elf had left a fresh robe for him, and if it was a school robe, at least it was clean and in good repair. A fragrant tray of food sat on the coffee table, and Remus lifted the cover to reveal steak, potatoes, peas, two rolls that were hot enough to melt the butter, a slice of apple cake and a mug of hot butterbeer. As he took the first bite of the blessedly salty potato, Remus thought he could die a happy man if he choked on it.

He ate every scrap of food he'd been given, then stretched out on the sofa, closing his eyes. He didn't nap long before a _crack!_ announced the return of the house-elf, with his freshly laundered clothes and a shaving kit. Remus thanked the elf and changed back into his own robe, which had been mended as well as washed, then brushed his teeth and combed his hair and generally made himself feel more human again.

He'd just settled back onto the sofa with a book he'd borrowed from Severus' shelf when someone knocked on the office door, then let themselves in.

"Do you need anything?" Severus asked as he stalked across the room, dropping a stack of parchment on his desk and retrieving another from a shelf.

"No. I'm fine, thanks."

With a wordless nod, Severus left again, and the sound of students milling in the corridors filled the room until the door shut, plunging him into silence again. He turned back to his book, but he hadn't read a page before there was another knock. No one entered this time, so Remus opened the door to find Poppy Pomfrey there. She bustled into the room, directing him to a chair.

"Imagine," she grumbled as she set an array of bottles on the coffee table. "You come in after being locked up at the Ministry for almost a week and instead of bringing you up to the infirmary where I can keep an eye on you, he puts you down here. You need to be in bed, young man." She shook her finger at Remus.

"I've been in a bed at St. Mungo's for two and a half days," Remus replied.

"Oh." Poppy paused, giving him a considering look. "Well, let's see then." She took his pulse, pressed a hand against his forehead, instructed him to take deep breaths and peered into each of his eyes. Apparently satisfied with his care to this point, she left only one bottle with him, which she told him to take before bed that night, then bustled back out of the room.

Not ten minutes after Poppy left, there was another knock at the door, and he opened it to find Minerva with a pot of tea.

"I don't have a class just now," she told him as she poured tea for them. "I thought I might come keep you company for a bit."

She stayed for half an hour, then fifteen minutes passed before Tonks came in, grinning as she flopped onto the sofa beside him and leaned against his shoulder.

"It's bloody hard keeping an eye on all those kids," she complained. "Makes me appreciate what I put _my_ teachers through."

He laughed and ruffled her electric blue hair, pressing her head against his chest. It felt good to hold someone. She stayed for ten minutes, then announced that she had a class, changed her hair back to the strict gray bun and ran out of the room, her speed completely at odds with her disguise as a middle-aged Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher.

Another twenty minutes passed, then there was another knock, this time revealing Harry, Hermione, Ron and Ginny. Remus hugged the girls and shook hands with the boys, then invited them all to sit down.

"This isn't what I would have thought Snape's rooms would have looked like," Ron commented as he looked around.

"What were you expecting?" Hermione asked. "A dungeon?"

The look on Ron's face suggested that was exactly what he was expecting. They stayed and visited for several minutes before Ginny gave Harry a nudge.

"Oh, right. We need to go. Snape said we could come but I don't want to be here when he gets back."

"Severus said that, did he?" Remus asked.

Hermione glared at Harry, then nodded. "He said we weren't to bother you for too long, though."

Remus shook his head, and reached for Hermione. "Have a good evening," he told her as he hugged her. She hugged him back fiercely, and Ginny did the same.

"Bye," Ron said, offering his hand again. Remus shook it, then extended his hand to Harry.

"Stay out of trouble," he said.

"But getting in trouble's more fun than staying out," Harry said, surprising Remus by putting a hand on his shoulder, his arm across Remus' back. "Rumor has it that it's roast chicken for dinner," he confided in a low voice. For a moment, it was almost like James was there again.

A few minutes before five, there was another knock at the door, and Remus opened it to find a student he didn't recognize. She was very young by the looks of things, and when she saw him, she took a step back, her eyes wide, then looked around.

"Where's Professor Snape?" she asked.

"He hasn't returned yet," Remus replied. "Do you want to wait for him?"

"Oh. No. I, er— Can I just leave him a message?"

"Of course," Remus replied, gesturing to the desk. The girl sat hesitantly, looking around.

"I'm sure Professor Snape won't mind if you borrow parchment and quill," Remus suggested, pointing to the quill laying on the corner of the desk and taking a sheet of parchment from the stack on the shelf.

"Thanks," she said. She bent her head over the parchment and wrote furiously for a moment, then folded the parchment and printed 'Professor Snape' on it in big, rounded letters that cramped against each other, then looked around.

"Why don't you just leave it there on the desk?" Remus said.

"Thanks," she said again, then picked up her bag. She was halfway to the door before she turned back to him. "Who are you?"

Remus chuckled. "Remus Lupin," he said, extending a hand.

"Amber Carlisle," she replied, shaking his hand. "Will you tell Professor Snape to read that? It's important."

"Is everything all right?"

She nodded. "Just ask him to read it? Please?"

"I will," Remus promised.

She smiled and let herself out. It wasn't five minutes before Severus came in.

"How was your afternoon?" he asked as he dropped another stack of parchment on the desk.

"Busy," Remus replied. "Tell me, Professor Snape, of Minerva McGonagall, Nymphadora Tonks, Hermione Granger, Ginny Weasley, Harry Potter, Ronald Weasley, and Poppy Pomfrey, how many are regular visitors to your office?"

"Minerva."

"You told Harry Potter he could come visit me here if he liked?"

"If you start, I'm—"

Remus held up a hand. "I'm not starting anything. There's a note on your desk. One of the students left it for you. Amber Carlisle, I believe?"

Severus glanced at the desk. "She's one of my second years," he explained, picking up the folded parchment. "She's also one of my best sources of information about what my dear, lovely students are up to."

"Ah," Remus said. "A tattle-tale, then."

"No, she is not a tattle-tale," Severus snapped. "She's an informant."

"If you were sixteen, would you consider her a tattle-tale or an informant?"

Severus glared at him. "I am not sixteen and neither are you. Are you staying for dinner? I expect the headmaster will be back this evening."

"I think I'd better get back to London, actually."

Severus nodded. "Oh, I have some junk for you. Wait a minute." He sat at his desk and rummaged through a drawer for a moment, then handed Remus a folder. "Information from the Ministry, including a note as to when your next appointment is."

Remus opened the folder and saw that there was, indeed, a note scrawled in Severus' hand. "Wednesday," Remus said with a sigh. "I no more than leave before I have to go back." He tucked the note into his pocket, then hoisted the folder. "Thanks."

"Not at all."

Remus was halfway to the door, but stopped and turned to look at Severus. "What does it mean when the Wolfsbane turns blue?" he asked.

Severus raised an eyebrow. "Blue?" he asked. "Is that what happened?" Remus nodded, and a closed look came across Severus' face. "It means that it wasn't stored properly. If it turned a bright blue, it was too hot. Renders it ineffective, but it isn't dangerous."

"Oh," Remus said.

"Thank you for telling me that. Interesting to know." Severus slammed the drawer shut. "Very interesting."

"Upset?"

"Quite. I don't brew that potion so that the Ministry of Magic can store it in a broom closet where it overheats and is rendered useless, thereby forcing you to be imprisoned despite my efforts." He shoved his chair away from the desk and folded his arms, scowling.

Remus dropped his things back on Severus' desk and walked around to the other side, leaning against it. "What are you going to do?"

"I'm going to start by giving Lara Berkeley a piece of my mind," Severus muttered. "Then I'm going to contact a few colleagues and encourage them to do the same." He stood, and Remus joined him. "Don't worry--you'll have your Wolfsbane next month. And it will not be blue." He glanced from Remus to the door. "Do you need assistance Apparating again?"

"I think I'm rested enough for it now, thanks."

"Oh."

"Is there something else you wanted, Severus?"

Severus looked at him for a moment, then cleared his throat. "I—er—" He took a deep breath, then started again. "I'm sorry, Remus. I'm truly sorry for my part in this. I…" He trailed off again, looking down. "I'm sorry."

Remus placed a hand on Severus' shoulder. "It's all right," he said. "I forgive you."

It was dinnertime when Remus arrived back at headquarters. He dropped his things on the desk in the drawing room, then followed his nose down to the kitchen. He had barely stepped through the door when Molly screamed.

"Remus!" She flew at him, wrapping her arms around him in a bone-crushing hug, crying and laughing as she kissed his cheeks. "We tried to come get you but that woman wouldn't tell us where you were! What happened? I've been so worried!"

"Molly… _Molly_," he said, trying to worm away from her. She was having none of it.

A moment later, footsteps came thundering down the stairs, and Charlie emerged at the door, wand drawn, Bill on his heels. Charlie stopped short when he saw Remus, and shoved his wand back into his pocket, an exasperated look on his face. The twins nearly ran into Bill and Charlie, and a momentary scuffle ensued.

"What's going on down there?" Arthur's voice came drifting down the stairs.

"Remus is back!" Bill yelled in return.

"Mum…" Charlie said, but Molly didn't loosen her death grip by a fraction.

"_Mum_. MUM! Will you let him have room to breathe?"

Molly finally let go and took a step back, dabbing at her eye now with the corner of her apron. Remus gave Charlie a grateful look, and draped an arm around Molly's shoulders.

"I was so worried about you!" Molly said, sniffling.

Remus kissed her cheek. "Thank you," he said. "I needed to hear that."

Arthur pushed his way through his sons and into the kitchen. "Splendid! What happened, Remus? We got a letter from Diana and it said we'd be able to pick you up on Saturday, but when Molly went, Lara told her she wasn't on the list."

"I had to do some fast talking to get her to tell me who _was_ on the list," Bill offered. "Fat lot of good it did. Snape—"

"Severus was ignoring his post," Remus said, sinking into one of the chairs. "Dumbledore is in Switzerland. This has all been a monumental comedy of errors, except that it wasn't funny."

"What do you mean, he was ignoring his post?" Molly asked. "What kind of irresponsible wizard ignores his post?"

"I do," Bill muttered, scratching the back of his neck.

"You do?" Molly turned a glower on him.

"All that's ever in it is bills, and there's no point in opening it unless I have the money to pay them. I open them when I get paid."

"BILL WEASLEY!"

"I ignore mine too," Charlie offered, and Molly's head whipped towards him. Charlie shrugged. "I get busy. I'll forget about it for a week at a time."

"Hey, Fred, do we get post?"

"I dunno. Never paid attention."

Molly's head was beginning to look like a top as she attempted to glare at all four of her present sons at once.

"Never mind that," Arthur said, taking a seat beside Remus. "Molly and I do _not_ ignore our post. Put our names on your list of contacts, will you? And Minerva's, and Tonks' and…"

"And Diana Murphy," Bill suggested. "She seemed to know exactly what she was doing when I saw her on Saturday afternoon."

"Diana has enough on her hands," Remus replied.

"I don't see why you need to put our names as contacts anyway," Molly said as she bustled back to the stove. "We're your friends. Why do you need a document stating that?"

"Because it would be too easy for someone who is not a friend to claim he was and to take advantage of him while he's at a disadvantage," Arthur pointed out. "I understand why it's a guideline. I just want to make sure that this doesn't happen again."

"Are you hungry?" Molly asked. "Dinner's almost ready."

"Yes," Remus replied. "I am." And he was, for more than just food. The other hunger was being steadily fulfilled too, though, whether the Weasleys realized it or not.

* * *

_A/N: Whee! update happy_

_Thank you all for your reviews. I'm hoping to move this story off the backburner soon, though I'm not sure if it will happen before Christmas-- a little busy still._


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